Another Chance

by Sandra Cuppett

  She never heard the sound of the gun going off. She crumpled to the ground dead from the bullet that ripped through the back right quarter of her skull and out the front.

  Frankie walked back to the car and found a little spade he had packed, just in case. Then he returned to her body. He quickly scrapped back enough dirt to roll her into a shallow grave, along with his clothes that had received some spatter from the close shot. After he covered her with as much dirt as he could scrape over her, he pushed some rocks on top of that and returned to the car. He donned fresh clothes, got behind the wheel and drove away, never once looking back. That was finished, over with, no need to think about it again.

  He drove back to the highway and continued on for another hour before turning back into the desert again. This time, he dug a deeper hole, drug Ruby’s luggage, purse, the spade and anything else he could think of that would identify her or tie them together and chunked it all in the hole. It was two o’clock in the morning when he siphoned enough gas from the car to douse her belongings with, and then he struck a match and tossed it into the hole. The burst of flames was instant and Frankie backed off to watch it burn. He found a long piece of wood that he used to stir the fire when it had burned down some, and by the first rays of daylight he could see there wasn’t much left unburned in the hole. He pushed the dirt back into the hole with his feet until it was level with the rest of the landscape, then got in the car and drove away.

  He had made Ruby’s dreams come true. In his twisted mind, that made him a good husband. Now he was free! Free to begin his hunt for Jordan. He turned the car toward Poplar Bluff. He had been up for almost twenty-four hours and wasn’t even tired.

  The road ahead of him seemed to stretch on forever, but his heart was light and he did enjoy driving. Every mile would mean he was that much closer to Jordan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Feather was driving when they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant where they had agreed to meet Jordan Lanier. Her brother was slumped against the passenger door catching some much needed sleep. After driving most of the day before, he hadn’t rested well at the last campsite and had bags under his eyes. She had taken the wheel when they pulled out this morning and had insisted that he close his eyes and sleep. He had tried, but it wasn’t until about two hours earlier that she could tell he was actually sleeping. His breathing was deep and steady and she was sorry they were stopping because now, he would wake up.

  Sure enough, when she brought the truck and trailer to a complete stop, his eyes opened and he sat up straight. Then he turned a questioning look at her.

  Feather shrugged. “We’re here. I didn’t see the truck Jordan said she would be in. Do you want to go in and eat while we wait?”

  He shook his head negatively. “No. Call her. Tell her we’re here.”

  As he spoke, a truck pulled into the parking lot and stopped beside them. Feather turned and looked.

  She was surprised by the beauty of the blond driver who was smiling a greeting at her.

  “You must be Feather?”

  Feather nodded. She couldn’t help noticing the huge red dog that sat comfortably in the passenger seat of Jordan’s truck.

  “I’ll turn around and lead the way, unless y’all want to eat?” Jordan said.

  Feather shook her head negatively. “No, we’ll follow you. We’d like to get the horses out on dirt as soon as we can.”

  Jordan nodded, pulled past them and turned around, returned to lead them the short drive to her farm. She took her time, knowing that a loaded trailer can’t just come to a sudden stop at a light that turns red. Watching in her rearview mirror, she led them through the short part of town that they had to traverse, and then out into the country. When she turned off the small highway into her private road, the butterflies in her stomach were going crazy.

  She pulled her truck into its accustomed parking place under the ancient oak tree and hopped out. Bhrandii hopped out behind her. Feather stopped her rig in front of the barn entrance. Jordan hurried to the back of the trailer, anxious for the first glimpse of her new horse. When she saw the tall man round the trailer from the passenger side, she held out her hand. “You must be Daniel. I can’t tell you how thankful I am to you and Feather for bringing my horse all the way from Idaho.”

  A smile spread his lips as he took her hand, revealing straight white teeth. When his hand closed around hers, she felt a surprising strength and warmth wash over her.

  “My sister and I are grateful to you for allowin’ us to keep our horses here until we can find a place. I assure you, it won’t take long, because I plan to start lookin’ tomorrow,” he said. His voice was deep with an almost velvet smooth drawl to it. His hand swallowed hers. Besides the strength she felt in his grip, there was something else she felt there. She felt kindness and a powerful animal attraction unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Surprised at her reaction to him, she looked up and found herself captured by startling blue eyes.

  Jordan slowly withdrew her hand and looked away from him to the back of the trailer, her hand still radiating his warmth. She did not notice him flexing his own hand in surprise.

  It was then that she thought of Bhrandii and glanced around to locate her dog. He was standing next to the man, his tail making circles of welcome as he looked up at this stranger. She gasped in surprise.

  “He has that effect on most animals,” Feather explained as she stopped beside her brother and noted the look of surprise on Jordan’s face.

  “He never welcomes people until I let him know it’s okay. He’s usually hesitant then.” Jordan was totally astonished at her dog’s immediate acceptance of this man. It was as strange as her attraction to him.

  Daniel Chetan looked down at the dog and smiled. “They have a way of knowin’ who likes them and who doesn’t. I’ve never met a dog that wasn’t friendly toward me. It’s just part of bein’ who I am.”

  “I hope you don’t take this personally, but I’m not sure I like his reaction to you,” or mine, she thought silently. “He’s my watchdog. He really shouldn’t make anyone welcome.” Jordan frowned at her former protector. “I’m not sure how trust worthy he is now.”

  Again the man flashed those straight white teeth in a smile directed at her. “If I came, with meanness in my heart, he’d know and, I’m sure he’d not hesitate to give you plenty of warnin’.” He looked at the dog and as he looked into the amber depths of the dog’s eyes, his dark brows arched. “In fact, he’d probably tear me to bits, if he felt I was any danger to you.”

  Jordan snapped her fingers and the dog obediently stepped over and sat down beside her. “Really?” She said. “You must really understand animals.”

  Feather stepped forward and began to unfasten the back gate of the trailer. She knew Wolf was not likely to lie about his connection with animals and that usually made most people uncomfortable. She wanted to avoid that if it was possible, at least for now. As the gate swung open, she stepped in and snapped a lead rope to the halter of the leggy buckskin paint gelding. “Wolf, please tie Music to the trailer for me. I know Jordan is anxious to get her hands on Pride.”

  The gelding stepped back carefully to the end of the trailer and felt around with one hind foot for the edge. Finding it, he lowered that hoof to the dirt and followed it with the other hind hoof. Then he casually backed out until he was standing next to the man holding the lead rope. The horse raised his head and looked around curiously. When the man led the animal it followed trustingly around to the side where it was able to turn and look all around while the man secured the lead rope to the trailer.

  The next horse Jordan saw almost took her breath away. She knew this would be Pride. She watched as powerful hind legs backed slowly toward the end of the trailer. As the hind feet neared the edge, Feather spoke softly. “Step down.” As the horse before her had done, the filly felt about with one hind foot until she located the edge, then stepped down carefully to the ground. In just another second she was unloa
ded and Feather was handing the lead rope to Jordan. “Here she is.”

  Jordan’s knowledgeable eyes were already sweeping over the animal with admiration. She didn’t say anything, but led the filly a few steps away so Feather could unload the last horse in the trailer.

  Jordan’s hands were almost shaking as she tentatively stroked the filly’s gray-brown neck. Feeling the firm warmth of muscle under her hands, Jordan’s touch became more confident and she rubbed down the strong shoulders and across the length of the animal’s smooth gray/brown barrel. She lost track of time as she examined the creature carefully wondering if she was going to find any blemishes anywhere. Her heart was racing with excitement and admiration as she assessed her new horse.

  The filly was accustomed to being handled on a daily basis and stood still while the woman felt her over. Gradually Jordan came back to the present and realized that Feather and her brother were watching her careful evaluation of the filly. “She wonderful,” she breathed softly. “I’m almost speechless.”

  Daniel Chetan pulled the baseball cap off his head and combed his fingers through his black hair. “She’s put together as near perfect as any horse I’ve ever seen.” He was holding the lead rope of the last horse that had unloaded from the trailer. He wanted to add that Jordan could have been included in that statement if he changed horse to woman, but wisely left that unspoken.

  Suddenly Jordan’s manners returned. She smiled at them. “I’m sorry. You can release your horses into this field.” She indicated the small field between the barn and the brick house further up the hill. “There’s clean water in the tub up in front of the house.” She moved to open the gate for them.

  As soon as they were released, the two geldings trotted over to a big sandy spot and dropped down to roll. The filly at her side pulled on the lead rope and shook her head. Jordan smiled and nodded. “Alright, I guess you want to romp for a while too.” She led the filly over to a smaller paddock and turned her loose inside. Like the geldings the filly found a good sandy spot and quickly rolled, but unlike the geldings, when she got up, the green grass didn’t interest her. She jumped high in the air, kicked her hind feet up over her head and took off around the small field as fast as she could go. She ran with her head stretched out and her tail flying out behind her, alive with freedom. She made about four laps, throwing in an occasional buck or two accompanied by loud explosions of expelled gas, then slowed to a long springy trot, her head high, her tail high, blowing loudly through her nose.

  Tempest and several other horses watching from their respective paddocks began to romp and race, now, including the two geldings from Idaho. Jordan watched anxiously, hoping none of them hit a fence or hurt themselves, but thrilled to see them all healthy and playful. Gradually they settled down and even the filly started to graze on the lush green grass.

  Even after the brother and sister had dropped their trailer and left to go to the motel, Jordan couldn’t tear herself away from the barn. She looked for things to keep her busy there, close to her new horse. Finally she just gave it up for a lost cause and leaned against the barn, watching the filly graze, admiring the fine, sleek roll of hard muscles under the smooth gray-brown coat.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Frankie sat quietly on the ground under the tree waiting for the lights to go out in the Swartz home, outside Poplar Bluff. From where he was, he could see the house where Jordan had lived with her school teacher husband. There were other people living there now, but they held no interest for him. He knew he couldn’t risk going into town to ask about her and he knew the Swartz couple wouldn’t give up information easily. But, he smiled confidently, they would give up the information he wanted. He knew how to make people tell him what he wanted to know.

  He knew the Swartz couple were well into their seventies, but he also remembered the night he had tried to rescue Jordan from her husband. When she ran to the house next door, old man Swartz had appeared on the porch with a shotgun. Lambert felt he was at an advantage knowing that the old man had a gun. He could get rid of him first, then take his time getting the information he needed from the old lady. She would be easier to break anyway. Women just weren’t as strong willed as men. They didn’t deal with pain very well.

  He rested quietly under the tree and about 9:30, the last light went out. He gave them another forty-five minutes to make sure they were sleeping soundly. Not having seen or heard a dog on either of the two previous nights he had spent checking out the house, Frankie felt safe easing up to the back door in the dark. He knew the bedroom they slept in was at the front of the house and they weren’t likely to hear him as he worked at the door. A knife made quick work of the screen. Once he had the screen door open, he began to work at the lock on the solid door. It was an older lock but he had spent some time in his youth figuring ways to open locked doors. His thin bladed knife slipped into the crack and skillfully, he began to work the latch back into the handle. It only took him a few minutes before he cautiously eased the door open, hoping it didn’t have a loud squeak. It didn’t and he closed it quietly. He was in!

  He made his way silently through the house, admiring some of antiques that the couple had collected over the years. Night lights placed strategically throughout the house by the elderly couple provided sufficient light for him to negotiate from room to room He could smell the odor of fresh flowers and remembered having seen the old woman working in her yard, all those years ago. He spotted the vase containing several gardenias on the dining table. It was a good smell.

  There might be some money to be made if he had time to stick around and convince the old man to go to the bank to spare the old lady. Some of the antiques he had spotted would have sell for a good bit. Then Frankie shook his head negatively. He was here to find out where Jordan was. He couldn’t let anything get in the way of that.

  The door to the bedroom was open and he could see a dim light coming from what was probably a bathroom. Another night light, brought a smile to his face. He watched them for a few minutes, trying to determine which shape was the old man. Slowly he stepped into the room, then to one side, away from the door. He pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at one of the figures. The click as he cocked the hammer sounded extremely loud to him and the old man stirred, rolling onto his back, then pushed himself into a sitting position. Frankie pulled the trigger and heard the pffutt of the silencer as the gun fired. The impact of the bullet slammed the old man back into a prone position, bloody gore splattering all over the bed and wall behind him as it tore through his head.

  The old lady screamed as she sat up. Her mind couldn’t accept what her eyes were showing her. She screamed again, and then Frankie was fastening his hand around her throat. Her scream was choked off as he spoke roughly. “Shut up!”

  Even in her state of terror, she thought that was a stupid demand. No one could scream when their throat was squeezed shut. Slowly Frankie eased his hold on her throat so she could breathe. When he finally released her, she turned her head toward her husband. She knew he was dead. My God, she prayed silently, help me! In answer to her silent request, her heart seized up and stopped beating. Her soul slipped out of her body and escaped the torture that Frankie had planned for her.

  When she slumped toward him lifelessly, Frankie swore loudly. She couldn’t die yet! He didn’t know where Jordan was. He pinched her nose and began to give her mouth to mouth, followed quickly by CPR, hoping to start her heart again. When that failed, he pounded on her chest with massive strength. Finally he realized the futility of his efforts. Mrs. Swartz was dead and there was nothing he could do about it. He vented his anger by attacking the room with uncontrolled fury. He knocked the lamp off the nightstand, slung the phone across the room, kicked the nightstand into the open bathroom, kicked in the folding door of the closet, snatched clothes off hangers and flung them around the room mindlessly, punched the storage shelves in the top of the closet until they broke and spilled down, sending the neatly stacked boxes flying about in wild
array. Next he attacked the chest of drawers, pulling it over then kicking it into pieces. Finally he melted down into a sitting position on the floor, his strength and fury spent his breathing heavy. He looked around the room admiring the result of his temper, and then he looked at the two corpses on the bed. They had won. He didn’t get any information from them. Furiously he wished he could kill them again.

  Then his eyes noticed a box lying on the floor. It looked like it had been one of the boxes in the top of the closet. The lid was off and beside it on the floor was a stack of envelopes, tied together with a ribbon. Love letters? Frankie wondered. Keep sakes? From who? Maybe the old woman was one of those people like his mother that just couldn’t throw away sentimental cards. Cards from friends. Maybe Jordan?

  Lambert snatched the ribbon off the cards and began to look through them. It was Christmas cards! He began to tear the cards out of the envelopes, opening them long enough to see who they were from. The first twenty were from people he didn’t know but when he opened the next one, his heart leaped with joy. It was signed, Love, Jordan. He stuffed it and the envelope it came in into his pocket. He had it! Now he could find her!

  He went through the house slowly, wreaking havoc throughout, taking small treasures, the Swartz’s jewelry, all the cash he could find, a pistol, the old shotgun, things he thought a burglar would take, and then he exited the back door and pulled it shut behind him. With any luck, the bodies wouldn’t be found for a couple of days and he would be long gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Jordan and the Chetans were seated at the table on the porch, enjoying their steaks when Bhrandii jumped to his feet and growled softly. Jordan looked toward the barn and saw a four wheel drive SUV bearing the emblem of the Sheriff’s Department on the front door, passing the barn and easing up toward the house. Her fork dropped into her plate and her heart felt as if a cruel hand was locked around it, beginning a slow squeeze. Maybe it was good news, she hoped, but knew Sheriff John would have called if that had been the case.