“George knows what he’s doing, son.” Or, if he didn’t, that was okay, too. A bubble of hope rose in his chest. He wanted the men as far away as possible, and he prayed they would take the Solitude Trail all the way back to where it began, at Coffeen Park, miles past where his group had joined it earlier that day near Bighorn Reservoir.
“I guess.” Perry sounded as disappointed in George as Patrick felt.
When they were out of sight over the saddle, Patrick handed Reno’s lead line to Perry. “Hold him, please.”
“Yes, sir.” Then Perry blurted out, “Why’d you lie to those guys, Dad?”
Patrick lowered his voice. “I think you can figure out the answer to that one, buddy.” Perry’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. Patrick raised his voice so Trish and John would hear him. “Be ready to ride out. I’m just going to get Eddie.”
John’s voice trembled. “Were they bad men, Dr. Flint?”
“Well, I’m not sure, but I don’t want to hang around until they come back to find out.” He winked at the boy.
Trish moved closer to John, her stance protective. “It will be okay, John. We’re heading in the opposite direction.”
Patrick looked at his kids and his chest felt tight. Then he pushed his emotion aside and stalked toward the overhang to get Eddie. Immediately, his mind started racing again. The gangsters had looked so out of place that it would have been funny if he hadn’t seen one of the musclemen reach for a piece in a shoulder holster. And Eddie. He’d been right not to trust him. These guys were after Eddie and the other men in the plane. Eddie had put his family at risk, smack in the middle of whatever it was he was involved in. Which was what, exactly? What in the world would have a trio of Chicago wise guys looking for Eddie and two other men in a downed plane in the middle of Cloud Peak Wilderness?
He peaked in the overhang. “Eddie?” His voice echoed back at him.
No answer. Eddie wasn’t in there.
Patrick shook his head, his teeth grinding together. Had he made a run for it? But, while Eddie couldn’t be too smart if he’d gotten on the wrong side of the mafia, Patrick didn’t think the man was foolish enough to run off injured, alone, unprepared, and lost in the wilderness with mobsters on his tail.
Patrick turned away from the cave and raised his voice. “Your friends are gone. I lied to them, and you’re safe for now. You’ve got until the count of five and then I’m leaving you up here.”
Still, Eddie didn’t appear.
“Fine.” Patrick couldn’t believe he was having to count backwards, like Eddie was a naughty child. “Five. Four. Three. Two.”
There was a scrambling of rocks. Eddie stumbled into view from around the far side of the cave. “I’m here.”
Patrick advanced on him, fists balled. “What have you gotten my family into?”
Eddie dropped his chin. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
Patrick was dumbfounded. He’d expected Eddie to fight back, not yield. “Yes, we do. But do you care to clue me in so I can be prepared first?”
Eddie stared back at the mouth of the cave. “I . . . I . . . I saw something I shouldn’t have. Those men want to kill me.” He turned back to Patrick.
Patrick pinned him with his eyes. “Go on.”
Eddie shrugged. “What else do you want to know?”
“What else should I know?”
Eddie rolled his lips in and rubbed them together. “Nothing.”
Patrick leaned toward Eddie with barely controlled fury, their eyes locked on each other’s. “If you want any help from me, you’ll tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but, right now.”
Eddie didn’t back away. He smelled like blood, fear, and sweat. The silence seemed to stretch on forever, with neither man breaking eye contact. Finally, Eddie sighed.
He said, “The other guys in the plane . . .”
Patrick closed his eyes for a moment. “Go on.”
“They weren’t dead. They were in bad shape, but not dead. One of them is Elvin Cross. You remember Elvin?”
Patrick went on high alert. Yes, he did, from as recently as yesterday, when Constance had told him in Dubois that the dead Jimmy Beartusk was Elvin’s cousin. “Yes. But you told me I didn’t know the guys on the plane.”
Eddie shrugged one shoulder, like his lies were no big deal. They’re a big deal to me. “Elvin begged me to go on without him.”
Blood rushed in Patrick’s ears. Two men were behind them on the mountain, severely injured and alone. “And you think Orion and his thugs are looking for the plane?”
“Yes. And they’ll kill them.”
“You abandoned them there. I wouldn’t think that would matter to you.”
“They were trapped in the wreckage. I couldn’t get them free or down the mountain. But I told them I’d get help and come back for them.”
Patrick raised his hands, then dropped them. “Yet, when you found help, you didn’t.”
“Man, I was scared. I was lost and confused. The weather. The mountains. And I knew those guys would be coming.”
“How did they know where to find you? Did the pilot radio the airport for help?”
“No. We were—he was—flying off radar. But they’d hired him. They were waiting at the airport in Buffalo. They’d set up a channel to communicate on. We were close enough that he could radio Mr. Cardinale we were going down. He told him we would be on Highland Park.”
Patrick rubbed his chin. “Where exactly did the plane go down?”
“I don’t know man. Way up on some rocks, past a pond and some trees. I had to run across this giant open area with the hail and lightning. It was hard to get my bearings.”
Not much to go on. “Could you find it again?”
“I guess. If I had to.”
“Where were you really headed?”
“Buffalo. To meet them. That part was true.”
Patrick spoke slowly and firmly, his finger pointing at Eddie’s chest in rhythm with his words. “What was on that plane?”
“Me and Elvin. They, uh, wanted us. But, man, if I tell you anymore, you’ll be in as much trouble as me.”
“I’m already in as much trouble as you, Eddie, and so are the kids.” Patrick shook his head, huffing.
Suddenly, from behind him, he heard Trish say, “Dad, George is back.”
He turned. She was standing five feet from them.
Eddie’s eyes grew wild.
“Are the others with him?” Patrick asked.
“No, sir. George said to tell you he sent them in the wrong direction. But he looks really scared.”
“Are you going to help me?” Eddie said. “I told you everything.”
Patrick pointed at him. “You. You either come with us now, or not. But I’m not coming back for you again. You run away, you stay away.”
Eddie nodded slowly. Patrick trotted out after Trish without looking back.
George was there with one of his giant horses. “You gotta get out of here, Dr. Flint. Something’s not right. I’m so sorry. I thought they were looking for their friend and his girlfriend, but I don’t think so anymore. I took them the wrong way and then pretended I was having an appendicitis attack. I made a deal with them to forfeit my fee. They made me leave Yeti. And I loved that horse. But I was scared of them, and—” He stopped, pointing at Eddie. “You. Are you one of the ones they’re looking for?”
Eddie didn’t speak.
“He is.” Patrick took a deep breath. He hated what he was about to say. He hated what he was about to have to do. But he had no choice. “There was a plane crash on Highland Park. That’s what those goons are looking for. And we have to go back for the survivors.” He turned to face Eddie. “Eddie and me.”
“We can’t!” Eddie said. His eyes darted, like he was looking for a place to run. Again.
George nodded. “Now I understand what Henry meant. About you guys running into a mess of trouble.”
“Henry? Where did you see him?”
“Back on the trail. But the Chicago guys didn’t.” He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. “I was supposed to tell you I gave him the keys to my truck and trailer down on Hazel Park.”
“Good. He’ll be waiting,” Patrick said.
Eddie grabbed Patrick by the elbow. “Dr. Flint, if we go back up on that mountain, Orion will kill us.”
“George sent them on a wild goose chase. They’re flatlanders lost in Cloud Peak Wilderness.”
“They’re determined and they’re smart.”
Patrick patted his chest. “I have my knife, my revolver, and plenty of ammo.”
“What about us?” John sounded close to hysteria again. “I can’t go back up there. And Eddie said they’ll kill us.”
Trish whispered, “Calm down, John. My dad has a plan. He always has a plan.”
Patrick didn’t have a plan. He felt as sick as John.
“What do you need me to do, Dad?” Perry seemed to stand two inches taller before his eyes.
George’s saddle creaked as he shifted. “I, uh, I could take the kids down to meet Henry, Dr. Flint.”
Patrick felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He didn’t want to separate from the kids. Hadn’t he learned his lesson about sticking together earlier that summer in the Gros Ventre Wilderness? Splitting up had led to bad, bad things. But he couldn’t take them back up to Highland Park. John was coming apart at the seams. Perry needed medical attention. Trish was strong and tough, but no match for the kind of trouble they were likely to encounter. And they all needed dry clothes, food, and sleep.
He stared at George. His earlier doubts had been allayed when George ditched his shady clients. While Patrick didn’t trust anyone else completely with the well-being of his kids—except for his wife—George wasn’t a bad choice for a stand-in. He was an outfitter. Paid to lead inexperienced people in and out of the mountains, often in extreme and mercurial weather. He’d risked his life to save a stranger at the hospital. He had heart and was courageous and resourceful.
So, instead of saying no, he said, “Are you armed, George?”
George dipped his chin. “I was born and raised in Sheridan, Wyoming. I’m always armed, sir.”
“But, Dad.” Trish looked at John. His face was pale and drawn. She buttoned her lip. Her eyes, though, continued to plead with him. Don’t go, Daddy.
He forced a smile and a warm, calm tone. “I’m going to be fine, Trish. All of us are. Use the buddy system. You’ve got John, George has Perry.”
She shook her head, her mouth open. Then she sighed. “Yes, sir.”
“She can’t have me. She isn’t a grownup.” John’s voice was shrill.
Patrick nodded. “But George is, and he’ll be in charge. You’ll be fine.”
“I can come with you, Dad. I can help.” Perry straightened his shoulders. His soft, boyish face was slimming up. His stern expression made him look older.
Patrick pressed his lips together. “Not this time, buddy, but thanks. All right. It’s settled, then. Eddie, you’re with me. Everybody else, get your horse and go.”
“I can’t.” John was shaking his head rapidly and backing up.
Patrick deepened his voice. “You can, and you will, John. You have to.”
Trish grabbed Plug’s reins. “I’ll lead him, John. You’ll just ride him right behind Goldie and me.”
John stopped. His face was uncertain.
Trish took his elbow. “I’ll help you mount up before I get on Goldie.”
Patrick swallowed hard. He turned away to gather himself. When he turned back around, all three kids were on horseback. Trish had looped Plug’s lead rope around her saddle horn. She looked stricken. Perry looked forlorn. John had dropped his face toward the ground.
“Ready to ride out?” George clucked to his horses. They started moving back toward the ridge.
“Do what George says, you guys.” He turned to Eddie. “You’ll ride behind me.” Reno was eighteen hundred pounds of muscle. He could handle a double ride. Because of his old injury, Patrick would take it easy on him, though. As easy as he could.
George pulled up. “Do you want The Lunker, Dr. Flint?”
“What’s the lunker?”
He held up the pony line. “The big horse attached to the end of this. You need him more than I do right now. The only thing is whoever rides him will have to go bareback.”
Eddie snorted. “I grew up riding green broke colts without a saddle. Bareback is better than double, man.”
They’d make better time and have more horsepower to get the injured survivors off the mountain. “Fine with me,” Patrick said. “Thanks, George.”
“No bridle?” Eddie asked.
George shook his head. “Just a halter and lead. Sorry.”
“Even better.” Eddie grinned.
George led The Lunker over, and Eddie grasped the horse’s lead rope in one hand. Then he led him to a boulder, climbed onto it, and vaulted onto the animal’s back. The Lunker snorted and hopped.
Eddie patted his shoulder. “Settle, big boy.”
Patrick climbed onto Reno’s saddle and snatched the lead rope away from Eddie.
“Hey!” Eddie said, scowling.
Patrick tied the rope onto Reno’s saddle horn, like Trish had done with John. “So we don’t get . . . separated.” He turned in the saddle to face the others. “Take them straight down the mountain, George. Tell Henry the kids need to go to the hospital, and then he needs to call Susanne. She’ll know what to do from there. I’ll be seeing you back in town.”
He kicked Reno forward, and the horse pushed off. At first, The Lunker resisted, splay legged, head down, heavy footed, wanting to stay with George and the horse he knew. But Eddie goosed him on the sides, and the animal jumped forward, giving in, mostly. Reno trotted off with his ears up, back toward the basin leading to Highland Park, dragging Eddie and The Lunker behind him.
Chapter Twenty-three: Clash
Flint Residence, Buffalo, Wyoming
Friday, August 12, 1977, 3:45 p.m.
Patricia
Patricia huddled in a rocking chair, her arms around herself. Ferdie had his large, hairy body plastered against her leg. The frantic animal hadn’t left her side since she’d let him out of the garage. She wasn’t quite sure which of them was consoling the other, but she did wish that Patrick and Susanne placed a higher value on keeping him bathed, since he was an inside dog. The day before she’d seen him rolling on a baby bird that had fallen from a nest and rotted for a few days or weeks before he’d found it. Pee-yew. She couldn’t really blame Susanne, though. Patrick had always been animal crazy. Her mother had to put up with baby alligators, raccoons, and snakes, in addition to normal pets, and all of them came with odor. At least Ferdie, stinky as he was, was helping keep Patricia from going out of her mind with worry.
Johnson County Attorney Max Alexandrov paced the Flint living room back and forth in front of her. Under normal circumstances, she would have considered him handsome. Light hair. Thinning, but not showing the top of his scalp like Patrick’s did. A dark three-piece suit. Flat stomach, nice eyes, and long-fingered hands. Stop it. These aren’t normal circumstances, she chided herself.
Max—was she supposed to think of him as Attorney Alexandrov or the County Attorney or Mr. Alexandrov?—dodged people with every step. The room was literally brimming over with humanity, not to mention the dozen or more party guests gossiping in the yard and reluctant to leave. Patricia surveyed the crowd. Police officers. Personnel from the sheriff’s office, there to help but also in support of the Harcourts. And, of course, Jeff and Ronnie, who were dazed and stricken. Vangie, with Hank in her arms, was sitting beside Ronnie, trying to comfort her friend.
Patricia wished Susanne was there. Wished she hadn’t taken the Suburban to go shopping. Wished she’d never gotten out of bed. But she wasn’t getting any of her wishes. Susanne had torn out of the driveway in the Suburban, gravel flying, as soon as that woman—Patricia could barely bring herself
to call her Barbara Lamkin—had snatched little Will and taken off. It was utterly terrifying to think about what could be happening to that baby and Susanne right now.
“Tell me what happened, Ms. Flint.” Max’s voice had a slight accent. Russian, maybe? Patricia was a sucker for a man with an accent. Usually. But not now, of course.
Ferdie’s head cocked one way, following Max with his eyes. A gawky young officer still fighting teenage acne was trying to keep pace with Max, too. He gave up, sitting down on a chair across from Patricia. He pulled out a notepad and pencil.
“My last name’s not Flint. It’s Sand.” Her response was quick and automatic. Patricia hadn’t reclaimed her maiden name after her divorce the year before. In her life in Austin, people expected her to be a Sand, so she never had to explain. Never had to face the issue.
“Mrs. Sand. My apologies.”
“Not Mrs.” She blurted it out, then her cheeks flushed with heat. She wished she’d just let Max think her last name was Flint. Maybe he would think she was a very young widow. But why did it even matter what he thought? Being divorced was nothing to be ashamed of. Not everyone mated for life like Patrick and Susanne, who’d started dating when they were children of fourteen and fifteen. She lifted her chin.
His eyes locked on hers for a few seconds. “Gotcha. Ms. Sand, please tell me how you met Barbara Lamkin and talk me through everything that transpired from that moment forward until law enforcement arrived.”
Patricia dropped her eyes. She knew she looked like a mess. Her eyes were probably still red from crying. But she wasn’t made of stone like her older brother. Patricia felt things with great big, unstoppable feelings. It was just who she was. She reached for Ferdie and massaged his ears. He liked it, and it soothed her. “I drove Susanne’s Suburban into Sheridan to go shopping, then I came back to Buffalo after lunch. I had a little time left before Ronnie’s party, so—”
“By yourself?”
“Yes. I had just parked when—”
“Where did you park, Ms. Fli-Sand?”
Snaggle Tooth Page 13
