Loving the Heartland

by Marjorie Jones

  Michelle knelt beside them and took Brad’s hand in her own.

  Brad looked at Michelle and his face twisted into a mask of despair. “They’re dead. My wife. My baby. They’re dead. What the hell am I supposed to do, now?”

  Kendra looked at the horizon as more than a dozen riders bore down on the inferno. The herdsmen must have seen the flames.

  One object on the horizon didn’t look exactly right. Kendra slipped Brad into Michelle’s arms before standing to get a better look. She stepped away from them and studied the ridge line north of the range. Was that a truck? More than a mile away, Kendra couldn’t make out the shape, exactly, but she would swear on a stack of bibles that the shape was that of a pick-up truck. The odd figure seemed to deform for a second, and then bright white lights shone from the front and it sped into the distance.

  

  The house burned. It seemed more than impossible to save it now. Michelle’s arms and legs tingled at the same time she couldn’t even be sure they were still there. Brad leaned against her. That’s the only reason she could tell either of them had any life left.

  A couple of fire trucks crunched over the gravel road and the airbrakes whispered beneath the noise of the inferno. Moving as one cohesive movement, the fire fighters hooked up hoses to the second truck and began pumping water onto the flames. One of the firemen approached Michelle and Brad wearing a badge that identified him as the battalion chief. He had kind eyes, but they were sad. It was like he already knew that not everyone had made it out of the house. He glanced at Brad’s scorched clothing and called for a medic over his shoulder.

  Two EMTs raced across the yard with heavy plastic kits in each of their hands. They took Brad from her and sat him on the ground. He fought them. “No! Let me go! She’s dead! Oh, God!”

  “Brad, be still. Oh, baby. Please, let them—”

  The medics pushed her away as Brad continued to scream for his dead wife.

  Michelle’s limbs gave out.

  Dear God. Lenise was dead.

  “Where’s Kendra?” she asked no-one in particular. Panic threatened to claim what remained of her sanity. She rose and tried to run toward the house, but strong, male arms grabbed her and held her back. “KENDRA!”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” The chief’s gruff shout somehow managed to penetrate the hailstorm of fire and despair in her head.

  “Kendra! Lenise... Lenise was in the house. Kendra. Brad. They tried to get her to her. I don’t see her.” She stared into the fireman’s lined face. “Where is she?”

  “I’m here,” Kendra called from a few feet away.

  Michelle spun toward her voice. Kendra’s face, blackened by soot and smoke, hovered in the dark. Closing the distance on shaking legs, Michelle grabbed her and then ran her hands over her shoulders and chest. She was alright. Nothing burned. Nothing broken. A sliver of guilt pierced her when relief washed over her. She looked back to the fire, then to Brad, who lay broken and silent a few feet away.

  The chief spoke to Kendra. “The house is a total loss, Kendra. I’m sorry. Once that fire broke through the roof, there really wasn’t anything anyone could do.”

  “It’s just a house. But Brad’s wife was inside.” Kendra nodded toward her little brother. “Lenise.”

  “Shit.” The chief lowered his head for a second. “That’s Mac’s girl, ain’t it?”

  Kendra nodded and her chin brushed the top of Michelle’s head. “She was pregnant.”

  “Any ideas how this whole thing started?”

  “Yeah. I think you’ll find arson may have played a role.”

  The fire chief balked. “It’s an old house, Kennie. It could just as easily been faulty wiring.”

  “Nope. Just finished the remodel. We had to bring every wire up to code. The inspector was here and signed off on the works not a month ago.”

  Michelle shot a look at Kendra. Was she serious? Not everything bad that happened in the world was Mason’s fault. The house was over one hundred years old. It could have been anything. But the muscles working in Kendra’s chin indicated she gritted her teeth and screamed her belief that the fire had been deliberately set.

  “That’s a pretty strong accusation. What else you got?”

  “I saw a truck up on the ridge. On a hunch, I checked out the back acreage by the old water road, and sure enough, that truck stopped and picked up a couple of guys who did not belong here.”

  A car Michelle didn’t recognize sped into the yard and slid to a halt beside the ambulance. Casey and Brent leapt from the front seats and ran toward them.

  “What the hell happened?” Casey shouted as he circled several firefighters who still attempted to put out the massive flames. Why they didn’t just let it burn?

  Brent stopped short and frowned toward Brad and the EMTs. He swallowed hard, and then looked to Kendra. They always looked to Kendra, like she held the answers to everything. Maybe she did, at least in the minds of her family. She served as the one person in their lives they could rely on; look up to. She tightened her grip around Kendra’s waist, offering whatever strength she might wish to borrow. Kendra’s arms tightened around her, as well.

  “Where’s Lenise?” Brent’s voice choked as if he already knew the answer.

  Kendra shook her head.

  Casey sounded as if he were numb. “Lenise was inside?” He asked the question like the answer was unfathomable.

  “Yeah. They both were. Brad couldn’t reach her, but he got out in time.” Kendra kissed the top of Michelle’s head, before continuing, “We need to talk. Michelle?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I need you to stay here with Brad. I’m going back to the main house with Brent and Casey. Go to the hospital with Brad if they need to transport him. Can you do that for me?”

  Michelle wasn’t certain she could do anything. She wasn’t even sure she could take a single step in Brad’s direction. What could she possibly say to him? His life had been completely torn apart. She could only imagine how badly he must wish it were him in the burned rubble of the house. But she nodded her assent, anyway. Kendra needed her. For the second time since she’d known this amazing family, Kendra had asked for her help. She would not let her down. “Yeah. I can do that.”

  “Good,” she answered with what should have been a reassuring smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She kissed her lips, fast and hard, and released her. To her brothers, she continued, “Come with me. We’ve got a few things to talk about.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me.”

  Michelle’s hand rushed to her chest. “Brad? You’re hurt—”

  “She was my wife, goddamn it. If you’re going after Mason, I’m in.”

  Michelle glanced at his jeans, cut up one side where the EMTs had treated burns on his legs. The skin revealed by the scorched rags was angry and red. “You need to go to the hospital.”

  “Screw that. I’m fine. Either I go with you, Kendra, or I take him out myself.”

  Michelle looked to Kendra. Surely, she would insist that Brad go to the hospital. That he rest. Mourn. That he grieve. Whatever someone who has just lost their wife of four days and unborn child is supposed to do. A glint of something she didn’t recognize shone in Kendra’s eyes. She narrowed them on Brad for almost a full minute.

  Then she nodded. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Kendra leaned against the barn door, closed against the warm night air and prying eyes. Her blood boiled, heated perhaps by the fire but more likely from the passion and tightly-reined anger that coursed through her veins. Lenise was dead. Her brother was devastated. Her family was in more danger than ever. And the piece of garbage tied to the door of a stall in her barn had the answers. Some of them, at least. He worked for Mason and he had already tried to kill her at least once. For all she knew, that fire was supposed to take out the main house – her entire family – and shit-for-brain’s friends had just screwed it up. Again.

 
; Not that it mattered.

  Lenise was still dead.

  Casey straightened to his full height. He’d spent the last fifteen minutes improvising a kind of table in the center of the barn. Two saw horses held up a wide wooden plank he’d found in the loft. He’d stacked two cinderblocks under one of the horses so the surface of the table was at an incline. Then he’d wrapped a couple of old latigo leather strips around the tabletop. The worn leather was old, but it was strong. Based on the size of their prisoner, that was a good thing.

  “Rocky, here, is a good, old-fashioned thug, ain’t that right, Rocky?” Brent stated without really asking the question. “He put up a pretty good fight back in Vegas, but he’s more friendly now.”

  The man, who wasn’t one of the assholes from the canyon attack after all, squirmed against the ropes holding him to the stall door and mumbled something incoherent through the bandana shoved in his mouth. Every time he struggled, Kendra’s muscles tightened and coiled, ready to strike back should he get loose. Brent had tied him fast and secure apparently, because no matter how many times he pulled on the ropes, the knots didn’t budge.

  Casey smirked as he leaned his backside against the makeshift table. “Now, Rocky, be nice. Didn’t we have this conversation already?” He examined his knuckles which were torn and bruised. “Don’t make me go over it again.”

  “Now,” Brent continued, “I’m going to let you speak, and you’re going to tell us where Mason is meeting your friends for the payoff. If you scream, we’re going to hurt you. There is no point in making a ton of noise because there is nobody around to hear. The firemen are gone. The cops are gone. And, quite frankly, you and your buddies just killed the Sheriff’s daughter. I’m pretty sure they’ll be on our side.”

  Casey tore the bandana out of Rocky’s mouth and let it drop to the ground.

  “What the hell is that table for?” he panted. He licked his lips and Kendra couldn’t tell if his mouth was dry from fear or simply because he’d had the cloth between his teeth for nearly twenty minutes.

  “That’s not what you were supposed to say, Rocky,” Casey stated before landing a hard right fist in larger man’s ribcage.

  “I don’t know anything,” he coughed. “I ain’t even been here! They cut me out of the loop! They don’t tell me shit, anyway!”

  Kendra’s stomach roiled. Under normal circumstances, she couldn’t imagine ever standing by and watching something like what was happening right in front of her. On her own property. With her blessing! Even when she was in the military herself, she hadn’t believed she could ever do some of the things she’d been trained to, in combat or otherwise. She’d had more than one debate over what constituted torture and how there really couldn’t be any excuse for it...

  But Lenise was dead.

  Her little brother, more like her own son, was devastated.

  And this guy had something like... answers.

  Where was the compassion for Lenise when this goon’s buddies set her grandfather’s house on fire with her brother and his wife still inside? They murdered a pregnant woman, and unfortunately for them, that pregnant woman was a member of Casey Williams’ family.

  Casey smirked. “So, you won’t mind giving your friends a call and getting all the new dirt, right? You can find out where they’re making the drop for us, can’t you...”

  Casey let his voice trail away as he moved to the opposite side of the table he’d constructed. He bent down and picked up a hose in one hand and an empty gallon milk jug in the other. He placed the jug on the wooden plank. Without a word, he inserted the nozzle of the hose into the jug, reached to the wall behind him and turned on the valve. Slowly, he filled the jug.

  Kendra pushed herself away from the doorframe, her arms still crossed over her chest as though they had been cemented there. She made her way to Casey’s side and turned her back to Rocky and Brent. She whispered, “You’re not really going to do this, are you, Case? I mean, we can’t...”

  When Casey answered it wasn’t in a whisper. He spoke plainly, with a tone of voice that was more controlled than she’d ever heard before. “Speak for yourself, Sis. I can do whatever the fuck I want to. He knows something, or he can find out something. I’m tired of the game. I’m done.”

  “Nah, no way, man. Your sister’s right. You ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me. Right? What’s the water for, man?”

  “Oh, the water?” asked Casey. “Come on, big guy! You’ve been around. You watch YouTube and CNN, right? You probably know all about water boarding! It’s a little game I learned during SERE training with the SEALS. Spent nearly four amazing years of my life with my brothers-in-arms; we traveled the world, met interesting people, shot some, too. But I have to admit; water boarding was my favorite. I just can’t get enough of this shit.” He turned off the nozzle and made a show of shaking off the tip on the edge of the jug’s small mouth. “That should just about do it. But hey, if you’re really good at this game too, don’t you worry. I have lots more water.”

  Brent laughed as he started to untie the knots around Rocky’s chest. “Casey, you really can be a jerk, sometimes.”

  Kendra’s stomach turned on itself and she backed away, positioning herself against a stall door. She glanced at the exit, considering the possibility that Michelle might walk through it at any moment. She wouldn’t understand. She’d be completely against this particular idea; no two ways about it.

  But she was inside, doing her very best to ease Brad’s pain in any way that she could. He’d crumbled when they got back to the main house. He’d fallen into a heap on the living room floor and as far as she knew, he hadn’t moved. Twenty minutes ago, Kendra had come out to the barn to find Brent tying Rocky, whose real name was Marcus Miller, to the stall and Casey calmly building his contraption.

  “Let’s get this party started, Bro,” Casey said to Brent. Together, they manhandled Rocky in the direction of the plank. He fought back as best he could with his arms still tied, but Casey’s training came into play again, giving him the upper hand in more ways than one.

  “Stop it, now. You can’t be serious, right? You’re not going to do this!” Rocky bellowed.

  “Oh, yes, we are. And when you’re ready to talk, you’re going to scream the word ‘TALK’ as loud as you can. If you use that word and then you don’t agree to help us out? Well, we’re just going to keep right on going,” Casey instructed.

  “Talk, man,” Rocky repeated.

  “That’s right. ‘Talk.’”

  “No, man. Seriously. You don’t have to do this,” Miller stated flatly, until his voice cracked on the final word. “I’m saying it now. Talk. What the hell do you want me to do?”

  

  The sun peeked over the mountains spilling golden sunlight as far as Kendra could see. Preakness danced beneath her as if he sensed what was about to happen.

  On either side of her, Brad and Casey steadied their own mounts. From her position on the ridge, she scanned the wide, green valley below.

  “When was he supposed to be here?” Brent asked.

  “Anytime, now.” Kendra never took her eyes off the black SUV parked at the side of the dirt road, below.

  “Are we sure we can trust that guy? How do we know he wasn’t full of shit?” Brent continued.

  Casey cracked his knuckles. “He told the truth. Trust me.”

  Brad remained silent. He had barely said anything last night as Kendra, Brent, Casey and Mac laid out the plan in the front room. Kendra wasn’t sure what that meant, but for right now, she was pretty sure it meant that Brad was pissed. Pain had riddled him last night and recovery could come later. Right now, pissed only helped the situation.

  Same thing for Mac. Her best friend of nearly her whole life had been shrouded in an anger she’d never seen before. By rights, he shouldn’t even be involved in this hare-brained scheme, but nobody had the strength or the desire to stop him. He was livid. The hurt would come later.

  Kendra lifted her face and coul
d barely make out the fifteen or so deputies lined up along the opposite side of the valley. The mounted patrol, an all-volunteer Sheriff’s Posse, which included Brent, had come together immediately to help in any way they could. Mac was one of them.

  Not far from the property entrance, along the main road, Mac waited with fifteen more deputies, paid and volunteer, in trucks, on ATVs and in their squad cars. When Mason showed up to pay off the men he’d hired to burn down her grandfather’s house and murder her brother’s wife, he’d find more than his henchman waiting for him.

  Kendra chewed on a piece of straw, hoping that Mason would put up a fight. She wanted this over with. Permanently. Like Casey had said during the planning, if Mason pulled a gun, Kendra was to shoot to kill.

  “There he is.”

  Kendra looked toward the opening of the valley that led from the main highway. Mason’s black, extended-cab pickup kicked up a cloud of dust as it progressed over the dirt road.

  The radio on her belt chirped. “Everyone, just take it easy,” Mac’s crackled voice warned. “Let him make the payoff before we move in. Kendra, that means you, too.” Kendra didn’t answer. She’d wait. She didn’t want anything to get in the way of a conviction.

  Michelle and Lacey both waited back at the house. Fuming.

  Lacey thought they were all insane, but wished she could come along. If she’d been any stronger, Kendra might have let her. Michelle, on the other hand, would probably never speak to her again. She not only considered this half-baked plan crazy, but unethical. She had made no bones about telling Kendra her feelings on the matter, either. Only because she knew, or thought she knew, how badly Kendra wanted the man dead. Not captured. Not tried.

  Dead.

  But that was only a part of her. The other part, the side of Kendra that held decency and honor above all else, the part of her that had shown up last night, would only seek that end as a last resort.