Big Easy (Cowboy Craze)

by Sable Hunter

  “That he is,” Jewel agreed, turning to the woman at Philip’s side. “And Wren, your diligence is going to help Easy, I just know it.”

  “Her curiosity, you mean,” Philip drawled, clearing not approving of Wren’s putting herself at risk to do her own investigating. “And you know what they say about curiosity and the curious kitten.”

  Wren blushed at Philip’s comment and Jewel smiled as she picked up on some definite sparks between the two.

  “I have a problem turning something like this loose.” Wren took Philip’s arm. “And you don’t have to worry, I’m perfectly safe in the swamp, it’s my home. I can disappear into the brush quicker than a wink.”

  Philip still didn’t look convinced, but he let it go. Instead, he gave Jewel a quick hug. “Don’t ever think you aren’t the perfect one to speak for Easy at this time, I saw how he looked at you. I heard how he spoke of you. I bet right now, you’re the person who is most on his mind.”

  * * *

  Easy stood at the window, staring through the bars at the night sky. His cell was dark, making the stars outside seem so big and bright he felt as if he could reach out and touch them. He longed to be out of this cell and walking along the bayou with Jewel under his arm. “What are you doing tonight, beautiful? Are you missing me?” He remembered the last words she’d said to him. I love you, Easy.

  Had she meant it?

  He knew people sometimes said things in times of stress. Friends told friends they loved them all the time.

  “Could she really love me?” he whispered. “The real me?” Faults and all?

  Maybe. The idea lifted his heart in his chest. “It’s not like she doesn’t know me.” In fact, no one knew him better. Unless, it was his father. “And she even gave me my father back.”

  He owed her so much.

  I’m going to get you out, Easy. I promise.

  As hopeless as things appeared…somehow, he felt she would keep her promise. He knew all the people in his life were doing what they could to help him, but he still believed that the power and the drive – the fuel that would bring his salvation about – would come from her.

  Click.

  Easy was about to turn around to see who’d approached his cell when he felt something whip around his neck, then tighten to the point where he couldn’t draw a breath.

  His lack of air didn’t keep Easy from struggling. He tried to throw off his assailants, bowing his back and tearing at the hands that held him. There was two of them – for one wouldn’t have been able to hold him immobile.

  “What we want, Injun, is for you to write a simple confession. You write three words – ‘I did it’ – and sign your name. If you do this, we might let your witch bitch live.”

  “Turn him around. Give him the pen.”

  Still unable to breathe, Easy was upright through sheer grit alone. As he fought to be released, one of the men forced him to his knees. Just before he lost consciousness, the sharp tip of a blade found its way to his jugular.

  “I’m going to let you breathe, just so you can write what I told you to write. If you give me one inch of trouble, you’ll be bleeding like a stuck hog.”

  In the dim interior of the cell, he could see the men wore white hoods, which concealed their identity but screamed their prejudices. Truly, he was between the proverbial rock and the hard place. If he signed the confession – he was sunk – if he didn’t, he was dead. Not much of a choice. “Do it, half-breed!” The knife jabbed him and Easy could feel a trickle of blood flowing down his neck. There was little doubt in his mind that these rednecks were more than capable of taking his life.

  Still…nothing in Easy’s make-up could allow him to surrender.

  With one mighty move, he stood, his powerful arms flying up and out – like Samson pushing apart the pillars in the temple – sending his two assailants flying. Even though he fought valiantly, seconds later they were back, leaving red-hot pain blooming across his chest from the cruel slash of the blade.

  “You won’t get away with this,” Easy hissed.

  “Watch us.” One of the men growled in a gravely tone. “If we can’t get you by hiding that goddam necklace in your bedroom, we’ll string your sorry ass up from the ceiling, then forge the note ourselves!”

  Again, the whip like belt was around Easy’s neck, cutting off his supply of air.

  Suddenly, the cell door swung wide open.

  “What in God’s name is going on?” Another man only took two steps within the cell before Easy’s attackers violently shoved him aside, attempting to make their escape. “Stop!” the newly arrived lawman yelled, taking after the two hooded men. “Come back here!”

  Left alone, Easy tore the belt from his neck and wiped the wetness of blood from his neck and chest. For long minutes, he hung his head and celebrated the oxygen flowing freely to his lungs. When he managed to look up, he was surprised to find the door of his cell standing wide open. “I should just walk the hell out.”

  “Probably wouldn’t be wise. Are you all right, Blackhawk?”

  Glancing up, Easy couldn’t really make out the face of the man who’d interrupted the attempt on his life. “Yea. I’ll live, unless you’re here to finish the job.”

  “No. Just starting my shift.” Flipping on his flashlight, he illuminated the tiny barred room. “I’m Deputy Truman Lawson.”

  Easy coughed, rubbing the scruff of beard on his jaw. “I’ve heard Jewel speak about you. She found your mother.” Easy realized his voice was hoarse from being choked. “God, I sound like a frog.”

  “You’re lucky I came this way. I knew it was time for lights out, but I could see this weird glow coming from the cell.”

  “Weird glow? There was no light shining in here at all,” Easy explained, his heart still hammering in his chest.

  “Odd. I saw a light.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you.” Easy stood, walking to the sink to wet his fingers, then raised them to wipe at the raw spot on his neck. “You didn’t happen to hear what those goons were saying, did you?”

  “I did.” Truman huffed a long breath. “And they know I did.”

  “So, you know I’m innocent. Let me out of here.”

  “I can’t do that.” His voice trailed off. “But…I can do what your girlfriend asked me to do.”

  His girlfriend.

  “What did she ask you to do?” Easy wasn’t surprised Jewel had been busy working every angle.

  Truman dropped his voice to barely above a whisper. “Just in case someone’s listening, lower your voice,” he instructed before continuing, “She told me her suspicions. Asked me to snoop around. Talk to the FBI.”

  “Well, go do it. Fast. I want out of this hellhole.”

  Deputy Lawson stepped out of the cell and pulled the door shut. “I’m sure you do, but that’s not going to happen tonight. Things don’t work in Lafourche Parish like they work other places.”

  “No fuckin’ kidding,” Easy muttered with a sigh. “Just go to my lawyer as quickly as you can. Tell him what you heard. If you don’t, I’m pretty sure they’ll be back.”

  “I’m on duty tonight.” Truman patted his weapon. “There’ll be more people around tomorrow.”

  “Just don’t forget. Okay?” Easy didn’t want to beg, but he understood the alternative. “I don’t want to end up on death row at Angola for something I didn’t do.”

  Still standing on the other side of the bars, Lawson hooked his thumbs in his belt buckle. “I used to would’ve said that I had faith in the system, that justice would prevail. Now, I’m not so sure. Hell, I feel like I probably have a target on my back too.”

  “Exactly. So, don’t wait. Go talk to Zane. Talk to the FBI. They’ll know how to handle this snake pit of corruption.”

  “I’ll weigh my options.” He looked over his shoulder, making sure no one else was near. “I have my own safety and the safety of my family to consider.”

  Easy couldn’t argue with that. “I understand. The woman I
care about is in danger and I’d give everything I own to be at her side when she needs me.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Even though the night sky was alive with stars, the shadows were deep on the bayou. Everett Hill stood in the pirogue, poling his way down Lafourche Bayou. His eyes darted from the left to the right, chills running down his spine at what he was about to do. Dawn would break over the horizon in minutes, there was no time to waste. “As usual, if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Feather-legged assholes,” he muttered. The time for empty threats was over. After the failure at the jail last night, he had to make sure nothing happened to take the suspicion off the redskin cowboy. And to do that, he had to put an end to the witch before she opened her yap.

  As he repeatedly pushed the pole into the soft mud a few feet below the surface of the murky waters, Everett shifted and grimaced. He could feel blood running down his leg. For the last couple of days, his dick had been bleeding. “One of those damn sluts gave me the clap or gonorrhea.” Whatever it was, his prick burned like hell. Even though it was still in one piece, it felt as if somebody had taken a knife and cut the crap out of him.

  Gazing ahead, Everett tried to gauge how close he was getting. Nobody else lived at this end of Gentilly and the idiot who was fuckin’ her sat in his brother’s jail. His plan was to pull up to the dock, slip up to her house, then drag her ass out kicking and screaming if had to. Killing her quick was too good for the likes of the swamp witch. “No, I got plans for you, girlie. That Chinaman will pay a pretty penny to hunt you down like a dog.” The thought made Everett smile.

  Rounding a bend in the bayou, Everett knew he was getting close. The waterway narrowed ahead, just before it reached the portion of Bayou Lafourche bordering the home of the witches. Soon, he’d be there. He glanced down at the tranquilizer gun, equipped with a dart dipped in drugs he used to anesthetize the whitetail deer they smuggled into Mississippi for an exotic game ranch. Just enough of this drug mix and the witch would be at his mercy.

  And then Everett noticed something – a scent he recognized, a scent he despised. Feared.

  The musky smell of snake.

  Blinking, he gazed forward and gasped. Then, he looked all around him. “Fuck, me.” As the sun rose over the trees, he realized the branches reaching out over the bayou were full of hundreds of snakes. Some stretched out as if ready to sun. Some dangling down like fat sausages. Many holding their heft aloft, reaching out toward – him. A scream tore from his throat as he poled like a madman, frantic to reach the more open waterway…before he was bitten. Struck by sharp poisonous fangs.

  With a scream tearing from his lungs, he made for the dock. His skin crawled. He remembered the dead snake Porter said he’d hung from the witch’s door. For a moment he considered if this was some sort of retaliation from that snake or whatever voodoo deity governed such things.

  No, that was impossible. Porter was the one who believed in all that mumbo-jumbo – not him. No, his beliefs were simple. He believed in having fun and making money. And if anyone got in the way of that – well, fuck ‘em. Like his wife. Willie Mae. “Fuck her.” Once upon a time, she’d been fun. Now…she wasn’t.

  With these thoughts sparking through his brain, he fought to get his boat to the dock. After grabbing the dart gun, he made the jump, feeling relief when his foot touched the wooden planks. Peering over his shoulder, Everett was shocked to see the snakes were gone. Vanished. As if they’d never been. “What the fuck?” he mumbled, not knowing what was worse – the snakes or their equally mysterious disappearance.

  Wanting to get this over as quickly as possible, he made his way down the dock. The boardwalk across the boggy portion of the witch’s property lay before him. Keeping his eyes straight ahead, he noticed the house was dark. Good, she was still asleep, making his job easier. Quickening his pace, he put one foot ahead of the other – until he couldn’t.

  In the midst of taking a step, his muscles froze. He couldn’t put his foot down. With arms flailing, he doddered in place. His body lurched…but he didn’t fall forward. Instead, Everett instinctively corrected his balance which caused him to fall backward. Not understanding what happened, he scrambled to his feet, noticing the line of red dust right in front of him.

  “Shit.”

  He knew what this was – Porter had talked about it. As he ogled the seemingly innocuous trail of pulverized brick powder, the fuckin’ stuff began to glow. With shock, his eyes followed the path that the dust made, the luminescence evident down the boardwalk, even among the lush undergrowth, up the hill toward the house and beyond. His mind struggled to explain what he was seeing – and then the sight morphed into something even more unbelievable. Before his eyes, the glow began to shift, to undulate, as the heads of serpents rose up. Hundreds of vipers. And then they all, as one, turned their beady eyes to gaze at him. There was a portion of Everett’s brain that tried to find reason in this horrid spectacle – he had to be hypnotized or drugged. The quest for a logical explanation warred with the sheer terror of seeing those snakes leave their place and begin to crawl, incredibly fast, toward him.

  “Forget this,” he muttered as he retraced his steps, jumped into the pirogue, and began jamming the pole into the water as fast as he could – too scared to look back to see if the snakes were following him.

  * * *

  Jewel didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but she had little choice. As she moved into the living room, Sam was speaking on the phone.

  “No. Don’t hang up. This involves me too. Just tell me you’ll wait until I get back before you make this decision. Why? Because you’re important to me – that’s why!”

  Turning, she hastened to leave before he saw her – too late.

  “You don’t have to go, Jewel. She hung up on me.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Tentatively, she moved on into the kitchen, making for the coffee pot. “Who were you talking to?”

  Sam sighed, then shook his head. “Oh, I…” He seemed ready to confide in her when the phone rang. Since it was her house phone, he brought it to her. “Hopefully, this is good news.”

  Jewel agreed with a nod. “Hello?”

  “Zane here. I’ve been busy this morning. I talked to the DA and we have an evidentiary hearing on the docket. You’ll be testifying, of course. He’s very interested to see the surveillance footage. By the time he reviews that, Wade should have the lab results from the knife Wren found.”

  “Sounds encouraging.” She kept eye contact with Sam who was standing near enough to hear most of the conversation.

  “Well, yes. I gave you one bit of good news, now’s the time for the bad.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her body tensing at what she might hear.

  Zane cleared his throat, almost as if he didn’t want to say whatever he needed to say.

  “What is it, Zane?” Even across the phone line, Jewel could feel the tension coming off him in waves. It had to do with Easy, she could feel it. “Is he okay?”

  Knowing exactly who ‘he’ was, Zane quickly completed his thought. “Yea, he’s okay. Although…somebody did try to kill him in his cell last night. He says they tried to get him to sign a confession.”

  “Who did this?”

  “They wore hoods, he didn’t see their faces. He thinks they are the same men who attacked him when they broke into his place.”

  “Oh, my God.” She grabbed Sam’s arm, who stood by her looking furious.

  Unable to stand it, Sam took the phone, leaning over so Jewel could hear them speak. “Zane, this is Sam. You said Easy is all right?”

  “Yea, his neck is bruised a little, but no lasting damage. He did say the men admitted to planting the necklace and someone overheard them.”

  “Who?” This question came from Jewel. Even as she asked, she knew the answer. “Truman.”

  “That’s right. Truman Lawson.”

  “Well, did he tell somebody? Did you tell somebody?” Sam yelled the questions. />
  “I called Wade. He was over at the Audubon Nursing Home first thing this morning, talking to Tootsie Dauphine. When he left there, he went to see Truman…but he was gone.”

  “Gone? Dead?” Sam looked alarmed.

  “Not dead, at least as far as we know. He just didn’t show up for work, his apartment is empty, and his parents are missing also.”

  “He ran,” Jewel whispered.

  “So…what do we do?” Sam asked, walking away from Jewel to pace across the floor.

  Jewel watched him, her mind racing. Without Truman, there was no way Easy’s testimony as to what his attackers said about the necklace would hold up in court.

  “What’s going on?”

  Whirling around, Jewel found her mother standing behind her. “Easy was attacked last night.”

  “But he’s all right.” At her daughter’s questioning glance, Hazel shrugged. “Honey, you’re not crying and able to hold a coherent conversation – he has to be all right.”

  “You’re right.” She hugged herself tight, trying to keep her bearings. “The men who came in to force him to write a confession, also intended for him to be found hanged in his cell. They were sure enough of their efforts that they admitted aloud that the necklace was left at Easy’s house to frame him. Luckily, another deputy came along in time to hear what they said – and to keep them from killing Easy.”

  “So, who was the guy who saved the day?” Hazel asked as she took baking sheets from a drawer beneath the stove.

  “Truman Lawson.”

  Hazel brightened. “Oh, I know him. His father, Ike, used to come to me for readings. He loved to play the ponies.”

  “They remembered you. I helped find Ike’s wife last week. She suffers from dementia.”

  “So, Truman’s a friend.” Hazel kept up her end of the conversation, even as she prepared French toast to put into the oven.

  “A friend who is missing at the moment.”