by Kate Merrill
“Please let him go,” she screamed. “Can’t you see it’s over?” Diana pointed at the helicopter hovering overhead, where an FBI sharpshooter was maneuvering a rifle into place for a clear shot.
“It ain’t over yet, lady!” Floyd jammed his gun harder against Juan’s skull. “Those assholes won’t shoot so long as the boy’s with me.”
Diana was in agony. Then oddly, she noticed that Juan’s beautiful blue eyes were riveted in horror on a spot somewhere over her left shoulder. Diana concentrated instead on Floyd, who was bleeding profusely. “Look, you’re hurt. You need medical treatment right away.”
The Devil’s weird pale eyes glowed like white embers as he fixed her with a sick smile. “Deliver me…” his ugly lips intoned.
“Run, boy, run!” The rasping voice came loud and clear from behind Diana’s back.
At the same time, Juan kicked Floyd hard in the groin. A flash of pain, then surprise, and finally fear ignited the Devil’s eyes as the boy broke free.
Everything happened at once, and yet Diana’s reality seemed oddly suspended. She watched as Juan bolted through the weeds and Floyd lifted his gun to shoot. Then an explosion rocked the earth, and Floyd’s snarling face shattered and scattered like the bloody bloom from a red rose. Petals of flesh and brain clung to the rocks as the headless man crumpled to the ground.
At first Diana didn’t realize the screams were coming from her own throat, but when she choked on vomit, the screams stopped. Lifting her eyes to the helicopter, she saw that the sharpshooter had never fired. The flight crew was hanging out of the bird regarding the entire scene in stunned bewilderment.
Slowly, she turned and saw that Juan had made it to Haw, the elderly white mule. Mother Mattie sat astride, sheltering the boy from the horror behind him, cradling a smoking shotgun across her lap.
FIFTY-FOUR
War zone…
Matthew decided that Mother Mattie’s barnyard looked like a war zone, with federal agents, local police, and emergency medics kicking up dust and trampling the innocent stands of wildflowers and verbena edging the yard. The din of revving engines, walkie-talkies, and static from a bullhorn drowned out the plaintive calls of the songbirds, while a television news van had just arrived with a crew of reporters and cameramen, all jockeying for position in the race for the big scoop. The atmosphere was charged with expectancy as everyone looked to the sky.
Including Matthew.
Seated on the metal steps of the ambulance, his aching head propped against the cool wall of the van, he, too, searched the clouds. Inside the emergency vehicle, Leona fought hard for her life, and she was winning, so they told him.
According to the young doctor who did the preliminary exam and hooked up the IV tubes, Floyd’s bullet had lodged in Leona’s abdominal area. The injury had likely ended her ability to bear children, but it would not end her life. In her delirium, the girl was said to have taken the news well: The Lord already sent a bolt of lightning and done that to me, so I reckon it’s His will.
Leona’s words made no sense, but neither did anything else about the past twenty-four hours. Time had taken on the texture of an absurdist nightmare in Matthew’s jumbled mind, but each time they questioned him, the details became clearer. The only saving grace, if the authorities were to be believed, was that his beloved Diana and the boy were still alive and would join him soon.
“Let’s take a look at your head, Mr. Troutman.” The young nurse who had treated and bandaged his scalp hopped out of the ambulance. “We don’t want any infections.”
He gently slapped her fingers away from his face. “I’m fine, leave me alone.” He was sick of everyone fussing over him. “Go tend to Leona. There’s nothing wrong with me a fistful of aspirins won’t cure.”
“Miz Clontz is stabilized, sir. This ambulance is leaving now, taking her to the hospital in Boone.”
Matthew lurched to his feet. “Aren’t you going with it?”
She glanced at a second ambulance parked in the shadows of the barn and made an ugly face. “They told me to stay and process the body they’re bringing in---what’s left of it.”
As the young nurse trudged away, Matthew tried to piece it all together. He’d heard bits of news about a shoot out in the mountains, and he knew Floyd Clontz had been killed. Other than that, no one seemed to have the facts.
“Hey, you’re Troutman, right?” A flashbulb exploded in his face, and a video camera began to roll. “Leona Clontz, the kidnapper, is inside that ambulance, right? Step aside so we can have a word with her…”
All the worry, the pent-up fury shook loose as Matthew shoved the reporter so hard he dropped his microphone. The kid’s round cheeks turned pink as Matthew kicked the offensive mic through the dust.
“Who the hell are you, Leona’s bodyguard?” the boy blustered.
Matthew fought off the urge to wring the reporter’s neck. In truth, after caring for Leona against impossible odds, he did feel a father’s protective instincts.
“Go easy.” A female cameraperson intervened. “Mr. Troutman’s had a rough day. He’s the one who rescued her.”
Matthew mumbled a brusque apology, then escaped to the relative privacy of Mattie’s porch, finding shade under the overhang. He settled wearily into an old rocking chair. As he looked out over the chaotic scene, he wondered what poor Mattie would make of it all, and as he thought about the old woman, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift back through the confusing events of the night before…
Last night at the moonshine cabin, he’d been unable to completely stop Leona’s bleeding, but the girl’s pulse had been strong as Matthew administered pressure to the wound. While the girl lay moaning in the cold grass, her breathing irregular, he was thankful that at least Floyd had stopped shooting. Matthew was pretty sure one of his bullets had hit the man, but clearly the shot wasn’t fatal, because Floyd, like Diana and Juan, had disappeared into the night. Where the hell did they go? He remembered saying a silent prayer for Leona, for Diana and Juan, and then offering a less charitable blessing for Floyd: May he die on the trail!
Matthew figured he couldn’t take credit for saving Leona, because the guardian angel who came by moonlight was responsible. She had appeared over the ridge, a ghostly figure on a hobbling mule. The apparition had materialized at the moment of Matthew’s deepest depression. In those tortured seconds, as Mattie came over the rise, he never fully believed in her substance until she dismounted and laid her hand on his shoulder.
“Move aside, I’ll tend to my own.” She firmly pushed him away. “I saw the wreck of your truck down yonder. If you can get it up and running, I believe we can carry this child home.”
Wordlessly, Matthew had done Mattie’s bidding. He’d been in no shape to question how the old woman intended to transport Leona to the truck, should he be lucky enough to get the tire changed. Nor did he point out that all their efforts would likely prove futile, since Leona was facing certain death. Instead, he’d realized that any constructive action was a blessing, and took inspiration from Mattie, who tore up her skirt to make bandages. The old woman rocked and san
g and worked mountain magic on her stricken granddaughter. That ancient savior was not to be second-guessed.
Somehow, with the feeble moon as his guide, Matthew had found his way back to the disabled truck. With the help of a flashlight, tool kit, and divine intervention, he summoned the strength to put on the spare tire and coax the old Ford back to life.
“What took you so long?” Mattie had been an eerie sight in her bloody slip, with the night wind lifting her tangle of long white hair from under the red baseball cap. “Me and Leona’s ready to go. Grab Haw’s reins and follow me…”
Mattie had rigged a makeshift gurney from two long branches and a sling fashioned from the mule’s blanket. “It’s an old Cherokee trick.” She grinned. “Help me weave these poles into Haw’s harness, and we’ve got us a chariot fit for a queen.”
Sure enough, the old woman’s contraption worked. Together they lifted the limp Leona into the sling, and with Mattie leading, Matthew supporting, they slowly made their way down the mountain. By the time they settled the girl in the bed of the truck, the first rays of morning tinted the sky.
“Drive down the same way you came,” Mattie advised. “Only this time head into the rising sun.”
Matthew hesitated.
“No,I ain’t coming.” Mattie looked longingly at Leona. “I know you’re thinking about how your lady and the boy are still up there, and they’re wanting to come home, too.”
She had read his mind. He saw that Leona’s wound had bled through the bandages, while her face was void of all color. He knew it was killing Mattie to leave her granddaughter, just as it was more than he could bear to leave without Diana and Juan. “Look,” he said. “I’ll go up back to the hills, while youtake the truck.”
An odd, guttural laugh escaped Mattie’s throat. “Listen, Mister, you can’t ride my mule, and I sure as hell can’t drive your truck. So we’ll do like I said the first time, and the rest ain’t up to us.”
FIFTY-FIVE
A prayer of Thanksgiving…
Matthew drifted back to reality as shadow passed across his closed eyes,
“Are you asleep, Troutman?” a gruff voice asked. “The helicopter’s on the way, but you’ll hear it long before you see it.”
Matthew glanced at the sky, then turned his face towards the bulky figure blocking the sun. In his city clothes and rumpled coat, Agent Max Grim looked ridiculously out of place with the mountains at his back. If possible, his baggy jowls and jaundiced skin appeared even more unhealthy than usual in the raw light of day, and his eyes watered from the smoke drifting up from the cigarette dangling between his thick lips.
“You took your sweet time getting here,” Matthew grumbled.
“Yeah? Well, you took one hell of a chance. Lucky we didn’t have to carry you away in a body bag. I’m surprised Clontz didn’t shoot you.”
“He tried, but I ducked.” Matthew still didn’t trust this man.
Grim chuckled as he dropped his cigarette butt into Mattie’s geraniums, grinding it out with the toe of his shoe. “I suppose I should thank you, Troutman. You saved my ass.”
Matthew was astonished by Grim’s sudden show of humility. He was actually smiling through his small, pointy yellow teeth. “So, when did you catch on?”
Grim was embarrassed. He shoved the cigarette butt around with his shoe. “Darryl Clontz woke up in the hospital with a powerful need to save his soul. The boy figured his wife would go running home to Grandma, so he even drew us a map right to Miz Birdsong’s door…” Grim paused to frown. “Trouble was, we didn’t know that you and Diana were in the mix until you came barreling down from the hills with Leona in the back of your truck. The rookie agent at the scene was near scared to death. He figured you were Floyd carrying a dead body in the vehicle.”
“I’m glad he didn’t shoot first, ask questions later.” Matthew recalled how gentle the young FBI agent had been.
“Our helicopter was already airborne when you told the kid your story, Troutman. Thanks to you, we got to the scene on time. We weren’t much help, though.”
Matthew was eager to hear the details, but as he opened his mouth to ask, Leona’s ambulance eased through the bystanders and picked up speed as it headed down the mountain. “What will happen to Leona?”
Grim’s mouth sagged. “Well, her husband will do some serious prison time, but Leona’s role in the kidnapping is more complex. I’ve been told the woman actually interceded to help Juan McCord. Depending on what you and Diana have to say, and if you’re willing to testify on her behalf in court, they may go easy on her.”
“We’ll be more than willing.” Matthew was actually beginning to like this man. “What about Mother Mattie? Did she really kill Floyd?”
Grim laughed so hard, he brought on a coughing fit. “That Mattie Birdsong is one for the books. When the chopper radioed what happened, none of us could believe it. Seems the old gal splattered the Preacher’s brains all over the Appalachians. Did we arrest her and haul her down in handcuffs? Hell, no! She wanted to ride back on her ancient mule under her own steam, and I hope that someone gets around to giving her a medal.”
Matthew smiled. For the first time, a great weight eased off his heart as he heard the far away drone of the helicopter. Max winked, lit another smoke, then walked away as the dark, mechanical bird appeared above the far horizon.
Matthew climbed unsteadily to his feet and shielded his eyes against the sun as the beat of wings got louder and the chopper circled above Mattie’s farm. He started running, along with the others, as agents joined with police to hold back the pressing crowd. His heart thudded against his ribs, and a lump filled his throat as the great bird settled into the appointed ring. As it touched down, gale-force winds spun dust into his eyes, disguising the tears already gathered there.
The wings slowed, the heavy door opened, and two blue-suited sharpshooters jumped out. A third agent handed a small bundle into their arms as Max Grim, ducking low, ran out to receive it.
Matthew looked on, his emotions in turmoil, as little Juan thrashed in Max’s arm lock. The child was wild with excitement, his enormous blue eyes blinked as flashbulbs and video lights blinded him. At the same time, he searched the circle of faces for a friend, and spotted Matthew.
Matthew lowered to his haunches and opened his arms as Juan delivered a swift kick to Grim’s shins and broke free. He jumped into Matthew’s arms, man and boy colliding in an urgent embrace. Their tears mingled, and Matthew felt the child’s hands in his hair, tugging hard.
“Everything’s okay, son,” he murmured against Juan’s ear, all the while keeping a sharp watch for the moment Diana would descend.
To their credit, Grim and his men kept the news hounds at bay while Matthew held Juan, but Matthew was troubled when the sharpshooters climbed back into the helicopter and slammed the door. Then they took off, straight up into the clouds, heading west back into the mountains.
“Where’s Diana?” Matthew asked the boy.
“I don’t know. Maybe she’s coming back with Mother Mattie?”
The helicopter shrank to a tiny black dot in the corner of Matthew’s eye, and then it was gone. For the next hour, with Juan nestled against his chest, he managed to fight off the reporters, but in the end, Grim repossessed the boy for questioning.
Exhausted, Matthew retreated to the periphery and watched the sky. When the big bird finally appeared again, his heart contracted with love and hope as it touched down. But as he drew near, the ambulance parked by the barn sparked to life and drove close as possible to the chopper’s do
or. The same two sharpshooters jumped out, but this time they received a heavy black body bag, which they rapidly transferred to the ambulance.
The emergency vehicle took its time driving off the mountain--- no flashing lights, no screaming siren. Floyd Clontz was the only passenger. And when the helicopter crew took off again, their mission accomplished, they headed back to home base in Charlotte.
One by one the police cars exited the scene, leaving only Grim and a handful of agents to clean up the remaining details. Naturally, a few stragglers from the television news crews hung around, hoping for a last minute burst of excitement, but soon even they packed it in for the day.
But where was Diana? Withdrawn and worried, Matthew lowered his sights from the sky to the far horizon, where a violent red sunset burned the hills. At first he thought his eyes were playing tricks when the silhouettes of two mules materialized on the crest of the ridge. They approached in perfect unison, their ghostly white legs pumping in weary harmony.
This time Matthew offered up a prayer of Thanksgiving as the paths of the two riders split---Mattie headed towards Grim, Diana to his arms.
They met halfway. Matthew caught her as she slid off her mount and into his embrace. He held her close, drinking in the scent and feel of her. He stroked her hair and rejoiced in the strong beating of her heart. Their kiss was deep with promise, and when they finally parted, neither could speak.
Matthew folded his arm around Diana’s shoulder, and they made their way, Diana leading Gee, towards the small crowd in the barnyard, where Mattie was busy creating her own drama.
“This is my house and my yard…” She waved her shotgun at the small group of stragglers. “Get on home now, or I’ll send the lot of you to Kingdom Come!”
Mattie looked the part of a crazed she-devil, half-naked in her bloody slip, her hair wild in the sunset. She put the fear of God into the hastily retreating bystanders, who scattered like buckshot.
Matthew and Diana knew the old gal was just having a bit of fun, but the young agent who cautiously relieved Mattie of her weapon, knew no such thing. Although she willingly relinquished the gun, the rookie scuttled off so fast he almost left his boots behind in the mud.
Chuckling, Mattie waved to Matthew and Diana. “Come over here, you two…”