by E A Lake
"You pig," Ed spit. "I knew you weren't right in the head."
"And Chloe?" I demanded, pressing the gun harder against his skull.
"Who cares about a smelly dog woman," he shouted. "She's nothing. Shaklin's going to keep her and use her as a vet. She loves animals; now she can be with them – where she belongs – for the rest of her pathetic, meaningless life."
"How did you get them?" I asked. That was a piece I hadn't figured out.
He looked up at me and grinned. God, I hated that expression and fought back the urge to pull the trigger.
"Shaklin sent Jimmy Yelk to do some reconnaissance work," Preacher said. "Based on what I'd told Tony, Yelk needed to grab those two. I knew the little girl called you Daddy and that wretched woman thought the world of you. It's a win-win, you see. He's got what you want back now and for my legwork, I get what I wanted. Of course, for you it's a losing proposition all around."
"Did Yelk come to see you after he made his first visit?"
Preacher nodded. "I helped him time his grab. And while I'm not proud to admit it, I helped him kidnap the two. I showed up first and put Chloe at ease. Yelk made his entrance a few minutes later and put a knife to the girl's throat. That's why no one ever heard a thing. Chloe went willingly once she knew her daughter was in danger."
"How can you do this to people?" Ed asked in a disgusted tone. "These are human beings we're talking about. Not some livestock that gets traded at someone's whim."
"I can't expect you common people to understand," Preacher sneered. "This world has gone mad and there are only so many ways a man like me can maintain his previous lifestyle. I deal in young women. It sounds worse than it is. I mean, what's here for her? Some life with a dirt farmer? I don't think so; she'll be better off with my help."
"Yeah, you're so good to them," I replied, fighting back the urge to puke. "With people like you in this world, no one is safe anymore."
"I beg to differ, Sheriff," he recanted. "Now, if you're done–"
"One last question," I replied. "Who's Shaklin giving to Winston Cutler? That's the only thing I don't understand in all of this."
Preacher's smirk widened. "Oh, come now, Sheriff. Even you aren't that dense."
"Help loosen our cobwebs," Ed instructed. "Maybe we are as dense as we seem."
Preacher shook his head, looking away for a brief moment. "Tony Shaklin and his wife are going to make you pay for your little stunt. They're going to make you pay badly. With blood, so to say."
That didn't help clear it up any. If Shaklin had wanted to kill me, he'd had a dozen chances since I'd returned to Pimento. Was he talking about Chloe's blood? That didn't make any sense either. Preacher had already informed me that she was being kept on as a vet.
"Thinking harder, Sheriff," Preacher whispered from his kneeling position. "Think close blood."
It still was a puzzle I was unable to put together. Well, except for the one person I knew kept herself distanced and safe from the kidnapping and escape. She could never be in harms–
Wait. Preacher knew Shaklin from way back. He'd admitted that much. And I'd given him a message for Belinda before I knew how thick they were.
"Shit," I growled.
Preacher nodded slowly, his smirk frozen in place. "Yes, Sheriff. Shit."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-THREE
I glanced at Ed and shook my head. He was still as confused as I had been two seconds earlier.
"What?" he asked, his old face taking on some of the worry mine was already showing. "What, Quinn?"
"Shaklin's giving Belinda to Winston Cutler." That made Ed's mouth drop open.
"That's not possible!" Ed shouted. "You assured me that she said she was safe."
"She was," Preacher interrupted. "Until your son told me to give her his best and to let her know they'd made it back to Pimento. Now how would she know anything about that...unless, of course, she knew he was there all along."
Ed rushed me and pulled the gun from my hand. Before I could react, he had it pointed at Preacher's head. The man who kept telling me we had no need for guns had changed his mind it seemed.
"You're going to fix this, Mr. Preacher!" Ed barked. "You will fix this, and I mean right now, or I'm going to splatter your brains all over the street. And trust me when I say no one is going to give a damn that I did it and not one other human being is going to miss a miserable piece of crap like you."
Our prisoner became serious, his eyes darted between Ed and me. "How can you expect me to fix something that I had no hand in creating?"
"Not my problem," Ed laughed, almost manically.
Preacher's eyes sought me out. "Sheriff! Please, do something."
I stepped closer to the man so he could really see my narrowed eyes and tight lips. I shook my head slowly. "My sister gets hurt, I’m gonna peel the skin off your body layer by layer. Then I'm gonna find a bunch of fire ants and let them feast on your raw flesh. After that, I'm gonna get creative with more pain."
"I think I'd rather be shot," Preacher mumbled.
I laughed. "My father won't shoot you. I won't let him. I want to be the one who dishes out the punishment." I reached for the gun. "Give me the gun, Ed. He's no good to us dead." My father, however, refused to give up the weapon.
Ed re-cocked the hammer. "Better start thinking, Mister."
Preacher began to noticeably tremble and I thought I heard him whimper. To be honest, I had no idea if Ed would actually pull the trigger or not, but I was rather enjoying the show.
"What would you do, Art?" I asked my quiet deputy. "Shoot him or not?"
Art roared with laughter and slapped his leg before composing himself enough to answer.
"Shoot the bastard," Art roared. "He's a piece of shit that needs to be removed from the face of the Earth this second. Go ahead, Ed; pull that trigger and do us all a favor."
Preacher went from whimpering to all-out crying. "Please! Please! I'll come up with something. Just give me a few minutes. I'm sure there's a solution to be had here."
"That don't sound like an answer," Ed growled, slapping the side of the barrel against our prisoner's forehead.
"Just give me 10 minutes," Preacher begged, tears and snot mixing on his chin and dropping to the ground. "Ten minutes, please!"
"What do you know about some people getting shot here yesterday?" I asked, trying to put everything together. "Did you have any part of that?"
His expression gave me my answer before he ever spoke. "God, no! I don't believe in violence. I think you've seen that in me already."
"But you let bad things happen to good people," Ed growled. "Violence is violence, whether you are involved directly or not."
"I have an idea," Preacher begged. "Something that just might work. Please hear me out?"
Ed glanced at me and after a brief moment, I nodded. My father lowered the gun and Preacher let out a long-held breath.
"This had better be good," I said, helping the man to his feet. "Otherwise, I'm gonna put you in a cell with Brutus and we'll see how that goes."
"I understand," Preacher replied contritely. "Believe me, Sheriff; I completely understand."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-FOUR
I liked what the desperate man had to say. I didn't buy all of it, but most of it wasn't a terrible plan. At least it kept him alive...for now.
Ed, well, he wasn't so easily convinced. That wasn't shocking, considering he viewed Preacher as a sham artist in general, so I kept my mouth shut and let my father do the talking.
"Shaklin's gonna see right through you," Ed insisted. "I know Tony Shaklin; I know men like him. They have a sixth sense that can see right through plans lined with bull crap."
Preacher raised both hands, attempting to persuade my father. "But Shaklin and I already have a good working relationship remember. Tony has no reason to doubt anything I tell him. He and I have an understanding."
Ed glanced back at me. "What do you think, son?"
I stepped forward and
pushed Preacher back towards the cell. "I'm going to go talk this through with Morgan. I'm not 100 percent sold, but something like this may be workable. Anything to get Belinda off the chopping block is better than nothing."
As I heard Art slam the cell door shut, another idea hit me. The plan, with a few modifications, might just work.
"Quinn," Morgan said tenderly, reaching for my hands. "We're talking about your sister's life here. A woman I believe you love very much. I know I do."
"She's already in danger," I countered, trying to hold my tongue. Come on, Belinda was between a rock and a boulder. She was getting squashed either way. The only choice we had was whether to try and move the boulder or chop off the arm of the person holding the rock.
I decided on a different approach with my wife. "Do you have any ideas?"
She sighed and the corner of her lips dipped down. I guess she was plum out of tricky strategies, too. Not that the one Preacher gave us and I further refined was all that hot.
"Why don't you run yours past me again," Morgan requested. "Maybe I'll hear something different in it this time."
I rose and began to pace. It wasn't perfect, but it was all we had for now.
"We bring Shaklin a gift," I said, staring out the back window. I'd been wondering if another shooting spree would happen anytime soon, just to get our attention. That would be just like my old buddy Tony.
"But it's the gift that worries me," Morgan countered.
Yeah, me too. "It may be the only way we get Belinda back. Preacher claims it will definitely get Shaklin's attention."
"It would get mine, too," Morgan continued with a sigh. "Just contemplating it has my attention. And I can't say I think it's a very good idea."
I turned and faced my wife. "It's a wagonload of ammunition. Well, a couple of cases of it. Word is he's in the market for it. Seems they're running low down there."
Morgan stood, approached and wrapped her long, thin arms around my waist, burying her head in my chest.
"And it's the one thing he can really use against us," she whispered in a mournful tone.
Sure, also true. But I figured meeting Shaklin, exchanging the ammo for my sister and putting him in a generally good mood might buy us another week. At least that was my plan.
"Preacher has a guy who owes him a bunch of trades," I said, feeling Morgan gently shake her head against my chest. "He and Cooley are going to head up into Terre Haute and make the deal. I'm sending word to Shaklin for a meeting day after tomorrow. Ed's going to have his group hold off another day until we hear back from Tony. We don't want to tip our hand and have him get word we’re amassing an army here."
"You think this will work?" Morgan asked quietly.
"Sure," I answered quickly. Actually, I had no idea. But it was the only decent option we had at that point.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-FIVE
Cooley stood before me with his hat in his hand, his eyes cast downward. I suppose he didn't want to see my reaction. Listening to me was bad enough for certain.
"You had one job," I raged. "One stinking job. Get him there and get him back."
"I know, boss," he replied in a near whisper.
"You haven't even been gone for two hours and you’re back," I continued. "Alone much less!"
"I don't know what happened," he pled, his pained eyes rising to meet my angry ones. "One minute he was there, the next he was gone."
Yeah, I got what I expected. I sent a boy to do a man's job and the results were as horrible as I ever could have imagined.
"Did you even look around for him?" I demanded. "You know, do more than notice he was gone and head back?"
"I looked all over," Cooley moaned. "I swear I did. He just disappeared into thin air."
That was impossible, of course. But given Preacher's slimy personality, not unexpected.
"We gotta leave to meet with Shaklin pretty soon, son," Ed added from beside me. "What's done is done. No changing that now."
Great, just great. I had to meet with my adversary without my bargaining chip. Worse yet, Tony Shaklin was the kind of person who saw through a bluff every single time. I'd have to come up with something else; we had to meet. I had to do something to save my sister.
"Okay," I said, turning for my desk. "Petri will saddle the horses and Ed and I are going to meet with Shaklin. But," I added, reaching for something on my desk, "I'm bringing a gun to this meeting. And that had better be okay with you, Ed."
He nodded and sighed. As though he had any choice.
"I say you let me do the talking," Ed piped as we rode to our appointed meeting spot. "Maybe a fresh voice will make that man listen."
Besides being his dumbest idea ever, it wouldn't help and we both knew it. Shaklin had us by the balls and could rip them off anytime he wanted. Anything we said was just noise that would fill the void until he told us how things would be going down. And they'd be going exactly how he wanted, most likely.
"I'll talk, Ed," I replied. The world was dark again to me. I'm sure my voice failed to hide my feelings from my father...as if he cared.
"Remember, son," Ed countered, making his saddle leather creak as he leaned towards me. "The Lord is with us. Because of that, we have nothing to fear."
I shook my head at his naivety. Belinda was going to be given to a crazy drunk. Chloe was going to spend the rest of her earthly days in bondage to Shaklin. Poor Avellyn; I had no idea what Tony's actual plans for her were. Whatever they were, I was sure it wasn't good. So no, Ed, we had plenty to fear.
"Let's just play it cool," I replied as we made our last turn before meeting our adversary. "Let me feel him out and see what he really knows or doesn't, okay?"
I glanced over to find Ed smiling and humming. His lively, playful eyes told me everything I needed to know. He had something up his sleeve. If it was good or bad was yet to be determined.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY-SIX
I saw Shaklin ahead on the road, waiting atop a dark brown horse in the shade. Beside him were two of his henchmen, both with pistols and rifles. Neither man was holding a weapon, but I was certain they'd use them at the first sign of trouble.
Tony Shaklin smiled without bothering to wave at us. Just like Ed and me, he had on a canvas jacket; ours were tan, his was a dark green. And of course, he was unarmed. A powerful man like himself didn't need to bother with such trivial things as personal protection. He hired others just for that specific purpose.
"Well, well, well," Tony called out with a smile as we came closer. "If it isn't the prodigal son and father both coming to see me. I'd heard a rumor Ed was nosing around Pimento. Something about a new church if I'm not mistaken."
Small talk: Tony's specialty. But I was in no mood for it.
"I haven't seen you in a while, Ed," he continued. "Not since you went all hyper-religious nutso at least. So, should I address you as reverend or pastor? Perhaps you're Father Ed now."
"Ed's just fine, Shaklin," my father replied. "And I see you're just as full of hooey as ever."
Tony grinned and nodded slightly, glancing at his hooligans before bothering to reply.
"I'm not the one who called this little meeting, fellows. In fact, I'm a little disappointed it's only the two of you." Shaklin paused and licked his lips. His face changed from relaxed to strained. "I need Charolette back, Quinn. Time's running out."
"And I need to talk to you about something else first," I replied, still not sure how I was going to handle something so one-sided.
Shaklin shot me a tight smile. "I'm all ears."
"I need to talk to Belinda. Today, preferably."
He shrugged. "That's an odd request. Can't say I see where you're coming from, Quinn. Can you be a little more specific?"
He was playing me and I didn't want to give him any more ammunition than he already had.
"I just need to talk to her, Tony," I replied tightly. "Pretty simple request."
He waved me off. "She's tied up right now. Lots going on at my place.
She doesn't have time to come say hi to you and old dad."
"Can we go see her?" Ed requested. The polite tone he used surprised me.
"Nope," Shaklin answered sharply. "What part of busy don't you two understand?"
He wanted me to tip my hand first. Though I knew it was a bad idea, I really had no other options.
"Word is she's going to take Charolette's place if I don't hand the girl over," I said slowly and evenly. "That's not a good idea, Tony. You may want to rethink that."
The famous Shaklin grin formed on his lips. I'd said exactly what he wanted to hear. "So, you been talking to my old buddy Jack, I suppose. The man's got a big mouth."
"When a person has a cocked pistol pointed at their head," I replied, staring dead into his eyes. "Anything happens to Belinda and you know the consequences."
That made him even happier. Everything was going his way, it seemed.
"You don't hand over Charolette and I got a special package headed Winston Cutler's way," he roared. "I'm gonna strip your sister and wrap her up in barbed wire, nice and tight. I'll let that drunk pervert cut it off her, with a hack saw if he so chooses. She's gonna be a mess when he gets done with her, Quinn. Maybe you'll want to go see how things turn out for yourself. See what happens when you try and play a game against a real man."
"I'll kill you both," I said through gritted teeth. "I'll make you beg for me to end your life."
He seemed amused by my threat and then shrugged it away. "You can't get close enough to me to even hurt my crops. Now me on the other hand..."
His maniacal laugh said it all.
"You sent a man to Pimento to kill people," I countered. "But he failed."
He eased up on the reins and let his horse come even with mine so that our faces were mere feet apart.
"I sent a man to deliver a message, old friend," he purred. "And I think you got that message loud and clear."
