Looking for someone? Nah. Stevie arrived in Pueblo long after these two started hanging around the club. No one could have predicted Satan’s Devils and her paths would have crossed.
“This is the back of beyond,” Beaver says, conversationally. “Ain’t you going stir-crazy out here?”
“Not at all.” I don’t need to explain myself to a prospect. Oh, in time, if he looks like he’s going to make the grade I’ll look on him as a friend before he advances to being one of my brothers. Right now and just starting out? I need to see what he’s made off. “My bike got dusty coming up the dirt road. Go and clean it.” I point to the lean-to where it’s currently protected from most of the elements.
I’m pleased to see he stubs his cigarette out on the heel of his boot, pockets the stub, and steps smartly off in the direction of my Harley. Learning already. Good sign. Of course, I could have asked he clean the outhouse with his toothbrush. Maybe I’ll tell him to bring it with him next time. My lips curl behind his back. Always good fun fucking with new prospects.
“Beef!” Karl’s deep voice draws my attention to him.
He’s still leaning in the back of the truck, sorting out provisions I suspect. Well, if he expects a patched member to help his sorry butt carrying shit, he’s got another think coming. If he hasn’t learned the crap part of being a prospect yet, I’m happy to teach him. If I’d truly been alone, I could have asked him to cook me dinner and he would have to jump to it. Probably wouldn’t be edible though, unless he’s got hidden talents.
Prepared to educate him on the facts of prospect life if all he wants is help, I move around to the back of the truck, coming to an abrupt halt when I see what he’s brought.
Staring at the contents, Karl shakes his head. “Fuck knows why you want this beat up piece of shit. Think Demon thought you might be lonely.”
Curbing my instinct to put my fist in his face at his disrespectful mode of speaking, I crouch, then reach out my hand. A long pink tongue comes out to lick it. “Hey, you remember me, boy? You were in a fuck of a state when I last saw you.”
Max has got a cone thing around his head, his back leg is bandaged, and he’s got shaven bare bits on his front legs, presumably where the catheter went in. But his eyes are alert and bright, and when I reach behind his ears to give him a scratch, he leans into me.
Karl reaches into his back pocket. “Got instructions here from the vet. He told you to call him if you’ve got any problems.”
I hold out my hand. When the piece of paper is in it, I unfold it. Max is to be kept quiet and rested. The prospects have brought a crate for that purpose. There are instructions for his meds, and for his maintenance diet so he doesn’t eat too much and put on weight which would stress his healing leg.
“Okay, boy,” I mutter, half to myself. “Let’s get you inside.” It’s not the first time I’ve been close to him. Whether he remembers me or not, he doesn’t protest or struggle as I pick him up and take him inside.
Behind me comes Karl carrying a folded-up crate, and some blankets. There are other bags full of treats, toys, food and his meds, but at least the prospect’s got a head on his shoulders. We need to get Max settled and comfortable first. Stevie’s going to go ape-shit when she sees him.
“Don’t know why you want the mutt,” Karl mumbles as he sets up the crate. “Doesn’t the seeing-eye dog place take them back or something when they can’t work?”
Damn. He knows it’s Stevie’s. Well of course, he would. He’d have heard the talk around the clubhouse that I was the first on the scene of the accident. I wonder what I can say, and come up with, “You’re right, he can’t work. His mistress has moved on. I liked the mutt and offered to take him.”
“Your bike’s done, Beef. Got off all the dust.” Beaver points to the dog who I’ve placed in his crate. “I suppose the bitch left him as he was no good to her.”
“That’s right,” I say, firmly, keeping up the pretence, but unhappy to have even a fictional slur on her character. “A guide dog’s no good if it can’t work.”
“So, you, what? You wanted company?”
“I like dogs,” I repeat. Truth is, the closest I’ve ever been to a pet dog is Grunt, the wolfhound on the Tucson compound. I turn away dismissively. Conversation over. There’s a point when you start offering too much explanation that it becomes suspicious.
Beaver starts carrying grocery sacks into the kitchen. When he starts opening cupboards to put stuff away, I stop him.
“I’ll do that later. You’ll only put everything in the wrong place.” Places where Stevie wouldn’t think of looking. I’ll put everything away under her instruction later.
“Neat fuckin’ freak, ain’t ya?”
I swing around, suddenly seeing what he is. Tins stacked neatly by their contents. I simply glare at him. Whether I am or not is none of his business.
Wanting them to be gone, anticipating the delight on Stevie’s face when she finds out her friend has been brought back to her, I open the front door pointedly and follow them out. Then watch them go to the truck.
They’ve got their hands on the door handles when I shout, “You really want a beatdown? Be out of the club before you’ve fuckin’ started?”
Two men turn around fast. Karl holds up his hands as if to ward me off. Beaver looks perplexed. Then it suddenly dawns on them. In unison they give each other sheepish looks, take off their cuts, and only then get into the truck.
“Be sure to hide the fuckin’ gate once you’re out,” I add as they close the doors.
A wave of Karl’s hand out of the driver’s side window shows me he’s heard.
Fucking prospects.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I give it a few minutes before returning inside, making sure that the new prospects haven’t forgotten something or other and decide to come back. Then, with a huge fucking smile on my face, and unable to hold back on the surprise any longer, I go inside.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I call out before entering the bedroom where Stevie is hiding. I’m so impatient to show her what’s waiting for her, I can barely hold myself back from yanking her into my arms and carrying her downstairs.
“What’s the matter, Beef? What the hell are you doing?” Stevie’s face is tight. “Have they found me? Why the rush?”
Shit. I’ve scared her. She can’t see I’m beaming from ear to ear. “Nothing’s wrong. Fuck, sorry, Stevie. I’m happy is all, and you will be too.”
There’s a thump thump from the crate. Stevie stops dead, her brain computing the sound. The conclusion she comes to is confirmed when Max, eager to see his mistress, gives a small whine. Several emotions pass across her face, disbelief, then hope and finally, pleasure.
Taking a step toward the sound she asks, “Is he alright?”
“Yeah. He’s in a crate. His leg’s bandaged, he’s got one of those cone things on presumably to stop him gnawing the bandage off. He’s supposed to take it easy. But he seemed to be able to walk okay.”
“Can he come out? I’ll try and keep him calm.”
“Of course. You sit on the couch, and I’ll let him out, okay?”
Max is so thrilled to see his mistress that he bounds out of the crate in a way that makes me wince. But as soon as he reaches her, she gives him a command, “Down.” Within a second, he’s lying at her feet.
Sliding off the couch, she sits on the floor beside him, her face buried in his fur, her body shaking. When she looks up, tears are falling down her face. She sniffs loudly. “I didn’t let myself believe he’d be alright. Is he going to make a full recovery?”
“Looks that way,” I reply, sinking to my haunches beside the pair. “James’ note said he’s coming on really well.”
She can’t stop touching Max. I eye her carefully, then place a box of tissues beside her, remembering to tell her they’re by her left hand. She’s not going to want to leave him anytime soon.
“I’ll go start dinner. You stay here with Max.”
; I don’t need to tell her twice. Thinking that food will probably be the last thing on her mind, I defrost some chilli I find in the freezer, then heat it along with some rice. After plating it I take it back into the main room.
“Mmm. Smells good.” Her nose wrinkles in appreciation. “Thanks Beef.”
“It’s not much. You want it there?”
She eases herself back onto the couch and holds out her hand to take it. Well-trained dog that he is, he wags his tail, licks his lips, but Max stays put. When I sit down beside her, he inches over so he’s lying against my feet as well as hers. Guess he’s adopted me too.
“Where’s Max’s food?”
“Prospects brought it. Load of shit lying over there. Collar and lead. No harness, but he won’t be up to working for a while yet.”
“I know that. But at least he’s here and with me.”
She’s still pleased and excited, while I view Max with a frown. I’m delighted she’s happy but seeing Max on the road to recovery just reminds me that as soon as he’s able to guide her again, it will be time to say goodbye. I don’t say anything though. The dog’s still got some way to go yet. I can enjoy this idyllic interlude for a while longer. It’s just an unwelcome reminder that I’m one step closer to losing her.
When we’ve finished eating, she insists on taking our plates and washing them. I watch her walk away, accepting at some point she’ll disappear forever.
My arms itch to hold her again, but I can’t. If it’s that difficult to imagine her leaving as it is, if I allow myself to get close to her again, I won’t want to let her go at all.
Stevie wants to do everything she can for Max herself. She knows about his needs far more than I do. After cleaning up, she takes him outside, the dog limping along by the side of the woman finding her way with the stick I’d made, while I’m hovering close by in case she needs help. I’m intrigued by the practicalities.
“Get busy,” she says.
Max immediately squats. Stevie reaches her hand down and strokes his back.
“I thought male dogs cocked their legs,” I observe, having seen Grunt water the plants back in Tucson more times than I can remember.
“Guide dogs are trained to squat.”
“And you touch him, why?” It seems overly invasive to me.
“So I can tell whether I need a bag. I know he’s peeing now as his back is straight. If he was having a poo then it would be curved, and I’d be ready to scoop it up. Normal dogs don’t like being touched when they’re doing their business, but he’s been trained to accept it.”
Clever. I nod admiringly.
“This is why not all blind people want the hassle of having a dog. Owning a dog anyway is a responsibility, but it is harder when you can’t see. Max pays me back a thousand times over. If cleaning up after him is my payment in return, it’s the least I can do.” She raises her head, and sniffs the air. “Storm coming. I can smell the ozone.”
I glance up. Clouds are gathering, darkening the light from the moon. She could well be right.
“Best get back inside. Max should be off that leg anyway.” We’re not long back in the warmth of the cabin before raindrops start to hit the roof hard.
There’s something comforting about sitting in front of a log-burning stove while lightning flashes, and the sound of rain hitting the cabin vies with the rumble and crack of thunder for which can be loudest. Stevie jumps when there’s a loud crack right overhead, and again my arms ache to hold her.
Max, completely unperturbed, lies at her feet.
Ignoring the elements outside, we put on a DVD and watch it. Well, I view and describe. It seems the most natural thing in the world now. Then it’s time for bed. Not wanting to strain Max’s healing leg, Stevie goes up alone, satisfied with my promise I’ll look after her four-legged friend tonight.
She doesn’t know I’m observing her take every step, recognising her reluctance to leave him and to sleep alone. But it’s for the best. She knows it is too.
As the days pass I notice there’s a change in Stevie now she has her dog back with her. She seems lighter, happier, and her smile comes to her face quicker. It’s as if he completes her, as thought he was a missing limb. Max stays glued to her side, staying so close I catch myself feeling jealous of a fucking dog.
Demon keeps in touch, I make sure to give him a list of things that we need which the prospects will bring up in a few days and reassure him all’s as it should be on the cabin front.
Max is walking better as every twenty-four hours pass. I checked with James and the vet told us we could remove his bandage now, and his cone if he doesn’t worry the stitches. Carefully unwrapping his leg, I describe it to Stevie. The operation scar is quite small, looks good and clean, and the stitches are dissolving just as they should. Being a good dog, when his cone is removed Max licks the wound then ignores it when told.
I continue searching for parts of the Indian I’d unearthed. I find a box of treasures and start sorting them out and cleaning them; the oil pump, the engine. Why someone stripped it down and left it I’ve no idea. The thought grows that they hadn’t come back because they couldn’t.
I decide I’ll do the work, put it back together again; I’ll finish the job they started as a tribute to an unknown biker. Maybe Hellfire would know who it was? I’ll ask next time I see him.
If Stevie is bored with our simple life, she doesn’t show it. She finds pleasure in small things, like sitting in the sun with her dog by her side, her hand ruffling his fur as she listens to me tinkering with the bike. I’ve grown used to hearing her giggle when I swear at something that’s not going the way I want it. Her lack of complaint, her amusement at my frustration rather than fearing my outbursts are yet more things I admire about her. Despite her disability, living with her is easy, comfortable. Things I have now were exactly what was missing with Sally. Stevie’s independence shows in everything she does. I don’t think I’ve ever admired a woman more in my life.
Why is it when I’ve found someone who seems perfect, I can’t keep her?
Briefly I toy with the idea of going wherever she goes. Taking on a new identity, giving up everything I am. Leaving the brotherhood of the Satan’s Devils. Much as I admire Stevie, I’m not sure that would be fair to either of us. I’d be restless, lost. I’ve been a Devil most of my adult life, and don’t know if I’d be the same man without the patch on my back. Despite Stevie’s hopes of returning to her old life, I’d have to take that step knowing the chances are it could be permanent. I’m not ready to commit to that.
Damn it.
I’m sorting through the parts I’ve found when my phone rings.
“Prez.”
Demon’s tone is sharp, and he wastes no time. “Got Warped Jokers on the way. Looks like they’re heading in your direction.”
Fuck!
“Where are they?”
“Still on the highway, about twenty minutes out. Could be wrong, Beef, but you need to get out of there.”
He’s right. I do.
“Go straight up from the cabin. There are tracks you can follow, and then veer off out of sight into the forest. Hopefully the Jokers won’t have a tracker with them. We’re getting together now and coming up behind you, but you’re on your own until we get there.”
“Got it, Prez.” I’m already outside the door when I end the call.
I march straight in. “Stevie. Get your shoes on. We’ve got to get out of here. Got to go on foot and find somewhere to keep low.”
Her eyes widen, but the urgency in my voice means she doesn’t protest or argue, asking simply, “Max?”
“He’s coming too. He can make it, Stevie.” He’s been getting stronger, and that leg is weight bearing now. I can’t risk leaving him for those sadists, and if he does do any damage to his healing leg, it’s better than him, or us, being dead. “I’ll grab his collar and lead.”
I know he’s well trained, but don’t want him running off on the scent of some animal or other. As Stevi
e gets her trainers, I go to the pile of doggy stuff the prospects had brought and which we’d so far left untouched.
Picking up the collar I stare at it. “What the fuck is this, Stevie?” There’s a square shaped object hanging from it.
“It’s a…” Her hand covers her mouth, and she swallows hard before completing her sentence. “It’s a GPS tracker. In case he gets lost.”
Swearing, I rip it off the collar, then place the leather around Max’s neck and buckle it and attach the leash. Someone has known exactly where Max was since he came to the cabin. They must have been biding their time to arrange an attack assuming where her dog is, that’s where she’ll be. Fuck.
There is no time to waste. Quickly I herd both Stevie and Max out of the cabin, eyeing the slope above us. The ground is rough.
“I’ll make it.” Something in the tension of my body must have conveyed my concern.
“The ground’s uneven.”
“I’ll be okay.”
The first hundred yards isn’t too bad. Then she stumbles and almost falls over a root which I hadn’t noticed in time to warn her. Luckily my grip on her elbow prevents her tumbling to the ground. We carry on, making slower progress than I’d have liked. While Demon thought we’d be able to find somewhere to hide, there’s nothing but tree trunks to shelter us here.
I stop and crouch down. “Get on my back, Stevie. We’ll move faster if I’m carrying you.”
“I’m too heavy…”
“Stevie. Just do it. I carried packs heavier than you in basic.”
She’s not heavy at all, or at least, not now. Maybe if we go too far I’ll start to feel it.
“Is Max okay?”
“He’s fine. Now hang on.”
I’ve got a weight on my back and one hand on the leash, but at least we can start moving faster. I take care to watch my step, not wanting to trip and hurt either of us, and turn off the trail into the trees. Now I don’t have to watch Stevie’s every step, and I don’t need to find an even path. I just have to remember to tell her to duck when there are low-hanging branches.
Devil's Due: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #3 Page 21
