by Sharon Sala
“Okay.”
He took a deep breath and then closed his eyes. Despite the fact that every light in the house was on, they slept.
Seven
Lonnie Farrell was a man on a mission, and everything was coming together. Right after Sylvia Dixon had agreed to sell him the mine, he’d sent the money and papers by overnight express with a request for her to sign, fax him a copy then mail the originals back. When the fax came through with her signature on it, he knew it was the time to pick up the phone. It had been a good while since he’d called home, but he hadn’t lost touch with his roots or with his mama.
They’d had a special relationship when he was growing up as the man of the family, and, right or wrong, those memories were part of who he was. Right after he’d begun making the big money, he’d bought her a fancy double-wide trailer, and had a new water well drilled at the old home place and the septic tank replaced. Compared to a lot of her neighbors, Gertie Farrell was living high on the hog, and she never missed an opportunity to brag about her son, the successful Chicago businessman.
There weren’t many on Rebel Ridge who swallowed the story that whatever Lonnie Farrell was doing was legal, but money was money, and he funneled it to her on a regular basis.
What he needed now was local labor, and he knew exactly who to call to spread the word. His sister, Portia, and her lazy-ass husband, Buell, along with all three of their kids, lived with his mama now. He knew Buell was inclined to drink too much, but he wasn’t stupid, and Lonnie was about to give him the first steady job he’d held in over five years.
It was after dinner when he made the call, and Portia was the one who answered.
“It’s your nickel. Start talkin’,” she drawled, her version of hello.
“Hello, Portia. It’s me, Lonnie.”
“Well, hey, Lonnie. How’s the big city treatin’ you?”
“Fine. Just fine. Is Mama around?”
“Yeah, but hang on. I think she’s on the pot.”
Lonnie frowned. It had been a long time since he’d been around people who spoke as crudely as his family. This was a blunt reminder of the world he was about to reinhabit.
He heard Portia shouting, and then heard Buell in the background telling her to shut the hell up because he couldn’t hear the TV. A few moments later he heard his mother’s voice. She sounded a little breathless, as if she’d been hurrying, but there was also joy in her greeting.
“Hey, son!”
“Hello, Mama. How have you been?”
“Why, I’ve been just fine, thanks to you. I hadn’t heard from you in a while and was beginning to worry.”
“You don’t ever have to worry about me, Mama. I know how to take care of myself.”
Gertie couldn’t quit smiling. “Yes, yes, that you do.”
“I have some good news,” he said. “I’m coming home for a visit.”
At that point she squealed. She actually sounded like a little girl, and there was a moment when Lonnie felt real regret for not going home sooner. He could hear her relating the news to Portia and Buell, and then heard a door slam and the sound of kids screaming and talking all at once. Portia’s kids didn’t even know him, but they obviously knew of him as the man who sheltered and fed them, so that was enough.
“You got a special reason for coming?” Gertie asked, still giggling as she talked.
“I do. I’m coming to Rebel Ridge because I’m starting up a new business not far from the house, and I’m going to need some local labor to clear brush and trees, and fix some roads.”
“Oh, my word! That’s wonderful, Lonnie! You don’t know what that will mean to the folks around here.”
“Yes, I do know, Mama. I used to be one of them, remember?”
“You were barely a man when you left here.”
Lonnie’s voice hardened. “I was the only man of our family, and you know exactly what I mean. I took care of you then, and I’m still taking care of you. That’s what a man does.”
A fleeting memory of the time from before he left —something she’d long since put behind her—hit without warning. She heard his anger and quickly made her amends.
“You’re right. I didn’t mean no disrespect. So what kind of business are you planning to start up?”
“I’ll tell you about it when I get there. In the meantime, put Buell on the phone. I’m about to put your lazy-ass son-in-law to work.”
Gertie gasped. “Are you sure? I mean—”
“Don’t worry, Mama. I know what I’m doing.”
“I know you do. Hang on just a minute while I hand him the phone. Buell, Lonnie wants to talk to you.”
The look on Buell Smith’s face said it all. Lonnie didn’t like him, and he knew it. Whatever this was about, it couldn’t be good. His voice was a little shaky as he took the phone.
“Yeah, I’m here. How you been, brother?”
Lonnie swallowed the retort on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t have any brothers, and if he had the urge to claim one, Buell Smith would not be in the running.
“I have a job that needs to be done up the road a bit from Mama’s, and I need you to find at least two dozen men who are willing to work.” His disgust came through in his voice as he added, “I’m not talking about any of your drinking buddies. I need people who will work their asses off. The money will be fair. Depending on what I think of their work ethic, they could be hired on permanent. I’m going to put you in charge, but if you fuck up, not only will you not get paid, but I will personally beat the living shit out of you. Are we clear?”
Buell thought about his own little side business and how this might impact it, but he didn’t have the guts to tell Lonnie no.
“Yes, yes, we’re clear as glass. What’s the job about? What are we gonna be doing?”
“Initially, clearing trees and brush, and repairing a road. I’ll tell you more after I get there. Can you do what I’m asking?”
“Yes, hell yes, I can do that. So these men you want are going to ask me questions, like when will the job start, you know, and assurance that this is for sure gonna happen, so if they turn down another job offer they aren’t gonna lose out.”
Lonnie’s voice softened threateningly. “Here’s the deal, Buell. That’s the last time you get to question my word or my authority. Do you understand me?”
Buell had sense enough to be scared and was nodding anxiously until he realized Lonnie couldn’t see him.
“Yes, I understand,” he said quickly.
“You tell the men to be at the entrance to the old Foley Brothers Mine day after tomorrow at 1:00 p.m.”
“I’ll do that. You can count on me,” Buell said, but he was already frantic.
He was expected to find two dozen men in less than forty-eight hours for that kind of work. He didn’t have a good personal relationship with any men who were inclined to break a sweat. But he was more afraid of Lonnie than he was of approaching men he knew did not hold him in high regard.
“Now let me talk to Mama again,” Lonnie said.
Buell handed the phone back to Gertie. “He wants to talk to you again.”
Gertie was still smiling. “I’m here, son.”
“I’m going to need a place to stay while I’m there. Do you have a spare bed I can use for one night?”
“Absolutely,” Gertie said. “I had a pig butchered a month ago, so I got pork in the freezer. I’ll fry you up a pork chop and make a dried apple pie. Does that sound good to you?”
Lonnie thought of the Cordon Bleu dining to which he’d become accustomed and sighed. He was so far removed from fried pork chops it wasn’t funny, but he could endure whatever it took for at least one night.
“That sounds real good, Mama. I’ll be there day after tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait. I love you, son.”
“I love you, too, Mama,” Lonnie said, and hung up.
All things considered, he felt like his work for the day was done. Within six hours of receiving the bill of sale, h
e was already assembling a local crew who would be clearing the main road to the mine. It was going to be a trick to pull this off, but he’d faced bigger challenges for less reward. Growing the mushrooms was going to be a front for the drug business he intended to start.
His chemists were on notice, and he had already ordered the material needed to restructure the abandoned mine into an operation for growing mushrooms. That would be set up first so that the drug operation could hide beneath the cover of the legal operation.
Damn but he did love it when a plan came together.
* * *
The cold rain was a boon to the bear. Its belly was full, and the creek was swollen with the runoff from the storm. The chill of the night and the rain that continued to fall worked as well at cooling its fever as the creek. Instead of holing up somewhere to sleep, the bear took to solid ground and continued to move downstream. Once it would have had a den it returned to at night, and a territory in which it lived and fed. But its injury had changed every instinct it had but the one to survive.
Tomorrow the scent of its passing would have washed away in the storm and it would already have taken a stream less traveled. By the time the Doolens and the search teams gathered and began moving upstream, the bear would already have reached the juncture where three creeks met and moved on.
As the residents of Rebel Ridge slept, the bear was heading east along a lesser creek. As fate would have it, by the time the sun rose, it was sleeping in a cave less than a half mile above Quinn Walker’s cabin.
* * *
Quinn woke up before daybreak, surprised to find Mariah asleep in his arms with her head pillowed on his chest. It would have been difficult for him to express the emotions that hit him, but it was fair to say that she was insinuating herself ever deeper into his heart.
After the episode she’d had last night it was obvious they had a long way to go, but he would consider himself blessed if they took that road together. How to approach the issue with her would be the trick. He sensed her reluctance to ask for help and even understood it. PTSD was as emotionally wounding as any IED could ever be. Flesh would heal, but the mind…that was an entirely different story.
He glanced at the clock. It was just after five o’clock. He needed to get up, but dear God, he hated to move.
As if sensing his quandary, Mariah opened her eyes, realized where she was and abruptly rolled off him. When she realized he was watching her, she felt her face flush.
“Sorry about that,” she said.
“I’m not,” he said. “I hate to get up and leave you in the bed alone, but we have a big hunt scheduled this morning, and we’re meeting early.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she said. “You know I’ll be fine.” The moment she said it, she thought of the flashback she’d suffered last night and knew how silly her words must have sounded. When Quinn didn’t call her on it, she wanted to hug him.
“I know you will,” he said. Instead of kissing her, he ruffled her hair and rolled out of bed.
Mariah sighed. She would have preferred a kiss instead of a pat on the head, but she wasn’t ready to go where the kissing would lead. She got up, as well, and, after standing for a few moments to get her balance, went to the downstairs bathroom as Quinn ran upstairs to the loft to shower and get ready for work.
As soon as she came out, she began to make coffee, then got a box of cereal, some bowls and spoons, and sat down to wait for the coffee to be ready. It wasn’t on a level with real cooking, but it was the best she had in her this morning.
When the coffee was done, she poured a cup and then took it out the back door to the deck overlooking the meadow. The air was chilly, the fog just beginning to lift. It was the half-light between night and sunrise that always made her believe there could be such a thing as magic.
In the woods, dark shadows morphed into one thing until she blinked, which turned them into another. A large bird took flight from the roof above her head and headed toward the trees. It looked like an owl, but she couldn’t be sure.
She took a sip of the coffee, savoring the flavor and the warmth as it slid down her throat, then moved a few steps for a better view to the east, waiting for that moment when a new day was born. A hinge on the back door squeaked. Quinn emerged from the house with his own cup of coffee.
“I’m here,” she said, waving from her end of the deck.
Out of habit, he gave the tree line a slow searching gaze, looking for anything out of place, but he saw nothing to cause him alarm.
“What do you think?” he asked, as he walked up beside her.
“About this place? It’s beautiful.”
A slow smile spread across his face. He was pleased that she felt the same way he did, but his smile quickly faded.
“It is beautiful, but you have to remember, like everything else, there are always hidden dangers. I know you’re more capable of taking care of yourself than most women, but you’re at a disadvantage here just by not knowing the territory.”
“You’re right. I know cities and, thanks to the army, I know the desert and the Taliban, but I do not know this world.”
“When you get a little more mobile, I’ll be glad to teach you.”
She nodded. “If you don’t get sick of babysitting a nut job, I’ll take you up on that.”
Quinn frowned as he cupped her cheek. “Don’t ever call yourself a nut job again.”
She sighed. “It’s how I think of myself.”
“Then change your way of thinking. Are you gonna come eat cereal with me?”
She glanced to the east. The sky was awash in shades of pink and orange.
“Yes, I’m coming,” she said, and followed him into the house.
They poured cereal, added sugar and milk, and took their bowls to the table and began to eat with the ease of a couple who’d done this for years. The bonds they’d made in the military were serving them well. There was no need to dwell on politeness and manners when you’d seen each other at your worst.
“About this hunt…” Mariah began.
“What about it?” Quinn asked as he scooped another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, then proceeded to chew.
“So you’re hunting this bear…but if you see one, how will you know it’s the right one? I mean, there have to be lots of them in the reserve, right?”
“Yeah, sure, the possibility of seeing black bear in the less populated areas of the mountains of Kentucky isn’t that unusual. However, from the marks this one’s left on trees and the size of its prints, it’s unusually large. We also have reason to believe that this bear has either been injured or is sick. Most of the behavior it’s exhibited is unusual.”
Mariah kept eating, listening without interrupting as Quinn continued to explain. But somewhere between one sentence and the next, she lost touch with the conversation and began watching the play of expressions on his face instead. Some of them she’d never noticed. Some of them she remembered from before.
When he was serious, he appeared to be frowning, yet she knew it wasn’t anger. The right corner of his mouth turned up just a little if he was skirting sarcasm, and when he was thinking about making love, his lips always parted just a little, as if he was only capable of quick, shallow breaths.
But it was the laughter in his eyes that stole her heart.
“Do you understand?” Quinn asked.
She blinked. “Understand what?”
He grinned. “Were you listening to a damn thing I said?”
“The bear you’re after is probably limping?”
Quinn threw up his hands. “My work here is done.”
“It’s not my fault I lost concentration. You have an interesting face.”
Now he was the one taken aback. “I do, do I? How so?”
Mariah pointed to the clock. “You’re going to be late.”
He sighed. “If that’s the way you want to play this, fine with me. Just remember what I told you. Until we get that bear, no leisurely walks outside.”
“Not even on the deck.”
“I promise.”
“That’s all I need to hear. Stay safe. Get some exercise and some rest, and I’ll see you this evening.”
He got up from the table, gathered his things and was on his way out the door when Mariah stopped him.
“Hey, Quinn?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful.”
He could tell she was anxious.
“I’ll be fine. I promise. Remember to keep your phone in the pocket of your sweatpants, so you’ll have it handy if you need to call.”
“I will.”
“See you later,” he said, and was out the door.
* * *
Jake Doolen and his sons were already on site, along with the local sheriff and a bevy of armed hunters, when Quinn arrived. The Doolens’ three bloodhounds were tied to their truck bumper, patiently waiting to be set on the trail.
“We have news that might not be good,” Jake said, as Quinn approached.
Quinn frowned. “Like what?”
“According to Sheriff Marlow, the Dawes family lost a calf last night in the storm. I’d chalk it up to the storm itself, except Mr. Dawes found part of the innards and some hide caught in the brush.”
“It could have been a cougar or a bobcat,” Quinn said.
Jake pointed at his son. “Cyrus, show Quinn the chunk of hide Dawes gave the sheriff.”
Cyrus pulled it out of the back of the sheriff’s truck and tossed it on the ground. When he did, all three hounds were on their feet, barking and straining at their leashes. The claw marks on the hide appeared to match what Quinn had seen on the mossy rock.
Quinn frowned, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration.
“Well, hell. That means the bear was on the move last night instead of holed up somewhere.”
Jake nodded. “That was my thinking, too.”
“How far to the Dawes’s place from here?”
