“Is that right Butch? You like little girls?” He walked around the man and kept nudging him with his foot. Willy touching the man seemed to have an adverse effect, and the guy was practically foaming at the mouth. His lips were wet, and every time Willy’s boot touched him, he scooted away and blew out his mouth, forming bubbles that ran down the side of his face. “Oh, I guess you don’t like black men touching you either. Seems to upset you some.” He nudged him again, toying with the man.
Gina, seeing how intently that Olivia was watching Willy, went and climbed the ladder forcing Olivia to get up and move. She took one of Oliva’s arms and steered her into the room. “Let’s get this stuff packed and ready to move. We need to get out of here before it gets dark.”
Oliva started to protest, but Gina shut her down with a look. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she didn’t want Olivia to see it. Gina knew that finding Steve again had made him question his actions the last time they’d met. He’d told her that he had taken care of the two men, and she had assumed that he had killed them and she had been okay with that. He’d said they wouldn’t want to run into them unprepared and he thought they’d always be watching their backs. Sam had done what he thought was best for the good of the group.
Watching Willy and how his demeanor had changed hearing Olivia say that she thought that Butch had murdered two young girls made the hair on his arms stand up. Willy reminded him of someone he had only heard about in Iraq, and his name had been Carver. No rank and no first name, just Carver. The man had single-handedly hunted down and released a group of school girls who the Taliban had captured, raped and murdered. Only a small number of girls had survived, and all they could talk about was the black American that had rescued them.
Steve watched his friend, and Sam saw the fear on his face when Willy pulled out a knife that looked big enough to butcher a hog. The sunlight coming in the door glinted off the blade. Sam could see the serrated edge on one side and wondered if it had been used for butchering. Sam had always thought the man in Iraq was named Carver for how he left the terrorists, but now he wondered if the name wasn’t in fact his name. No one he knew had known the man personally, just of the whispered stories they swapped when they were psyching themselves up before a mission.
Willy was still playing his game of nudge the prisoner and Sam was getting ready to tell him it was enough when Willy, rolled the man over and sliced the twine holding his hands together. Butch rolled over and scrambled backward, reaching to his side where he had a scabbard almost as big as the one Willy had.
Butch and Willy circled each other knives held out in front of their bodies. Willy continued to taunt the guy, “I see you’ve got some tats. Oh. And look at that, you’ve got teardrops on your face. You kill someone for those or did you just put them there to show what a big man you are. Willy stood up straight and laughed, “Oh man! I got it!” he laughed, “You were some black dudes bitch! Did he make you bend over and squeal like a pig?”
Butch lunged at Willy in a rage, and Willy simply sidestepped him and wheeled to face him. “What’s the matter, white boy? This nigger too fast for you? How bout I make this fair. Give it a little equality. Willy slid his knife back into his scabbard and stood with his hands at his side. Butch lunged again, and Willy danced away and shoved Butch as he went past. The man slid on some loose hay. Willy went to him and held his hand out, “This nigger is going to do you a favor and give you a hand up.”
Butch lunged again launching himself at Willy as he came up, Willy blocked him with just his forearm. As the man went by, Willy looked at his sleeve and then at Butch who was hunched over and breathing heavily. Willy was still smiling, “Now you done pissed me off. Perfectly good shirt and you just cut it. He used his other hand to poke at the slit in the fabric, “It’s just a little tiny cut, maybe as small as your dick.”
That was it. Butch howled and threw himself at Willy slashing his knife back and forth. Sam was prepared to defend Willy by shooting Butch if he had to, but in an instant, Willy’s knife was in his hand, and he made one movement. Butch froze, staring at Willy, his eyes wide in disbelief and then a ribbon of red cascaded down his chest. Butch had stood for almost a minute before he crumpled to the floor. Willy walked over and wiped his knife across Butch’s shirt to clean it and slipped it back in his scabbard. He nudged him with his toe and turned and walked out without even looking at Sam. As he walked by, Sam heard him say, “You don’t ever fuck with little girls.”
Sam wasn’t sure if Willy was talking to Butch, him or simply reminding himself. Sam could hear his footsteps on the gravel and let out his held breath.
“Oh, holy shit!” breathed Steve, who had hitched himself around to look at Butch. “That man’s crazy. Does he know who he just killed? Mister, you better just cut me loose and start running because when Silas hears this, he’s going to freak. You don’t want to be anywhere around when he finds out about Butch.”
“Well, as soon as we’re done here I intend on doing just that. Not cutting you loose, but hightailing it out of here. Got a buddy up in Whitefish waiting on these supplies I got for him.”
Steve shook his head, “You better go further away than Whitefish. That’s all part of the territory that belongs to Silas.”
“Hang on to that thought for just a minute.” Sam went over to Butch, picked his feet up and dragged him out of the warehouse. He came back in several minutes later, walked to the pool of blood and kicked loose hay over it. He then kicked Butch’s knife toward the wall. It gathered up loose hay as it slid, covering itself up.
Sam went back and knelt in front of Steve, He studied him and wondered if he should just shoot him or leave him for Silas to find. “What to do, what to do. Gina, can you throw me down one of those lariat’s?”
Gina came out and tossed Sam the coiled rope. She looked around but didn’t see Willy or Butch. She’d heard the fight and knew it hadn’t ended well for Butch, and she was glad. While they were in the room, Oliva had changed and told Gina some more of what had happened to herself and others. Gina felt she was as capable as Willy in dealing with child molesters or anyone who would hurt a child in any way. In her eyes, Butch had committed the ultimate sin.
Her eyes met Sam’s, and she raised her eyebrows in silent question. “He went for a walk to cool down. He’ll be back.”
Gina nodded, “We’re going to start loading this in the wagon.”
“You might want to go and get them then. They’re still where we parked then at the restaurant.”
“Oops. Come on Olivia; you can help me.”
“What are you going to do? I already told you that you couldn't take anything from here. It belongs to Silas.”
Gina saw Sam shake his head and smile at Steve, “You just don’t get it, do you. This is our stuff, and this town now belongs to me. You tell Silas where I’ll be, and he can come and worship at my altar. Maybe I’ll give him someplace to live and maybe I won’t.”
Chapter Eleven; Old friends
Steve seemed relieved after he heard that he was going to get to pass on the message to Silas. His whole body relaxed, and his smug grin from earlier had returned to his face, “You can go ahead and cut me loose now.” When Sam began to uncoil the rope, Steve asked, “Cut me loose! You said you were going to let me go, now do it!”
Sam looked at him and frowned, “That’s not exactly what I said. I stated that you could pass on the message to him, but I meant if you were still speaking by the time he finds you.”
The color drained from Steve’s face, and he swallowed hard, “What do you plan on doing? You going to hang me with that?” He began talking faster when Sam didn’t say anything, but just continued to straighten the lariat. “Look, let me go, and I won’t say nothing, not about Butch and not about Whitefish. My lips are sealed. You don’t have to do this.”
“Don’t you hate these ropes when they try to coil back up as soon as you take the tension off them? I don’t know how those cowboys do it, roping stee
rs and all. Damn thing just won’t lay flat. No worries, your weight will help keep it straight.”
Steve began using his feet to push himself away, “No no no, you said I was going to talk to Silas. You can’t do this.”
“If you don’t shut up, I might change my mind about leaving you alive. I’m already thinking that I might be making a big mistake. Just know this,” Sam got right in Steve’s face, “If I ever see you again, or if you ever lift a hand to one of our people, I will hunt you down and what happened to Butch, will look like child’s play. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born and take great pleasure in doing so.”
Sam took the loop end of the lariat and dropped down over Steve’s shoulders. Steve relaxed when he realized that he wasn’t going to be hung by his neck. Sam worked the rope down and under Steves armpits and pulled it tight, then took two turns around his body and back through the original loop. Unless someone was to cut the rope, Steve could never set himself free.
With the bitter end in his hand, “Get up.” Steve struggled more than was necessary, and Sam realized he was stalling. He turned and began to pull Steve along the floor, “I’ll just drag you then to where we’re going.”
“Wait…wait a minute I’m getting up.” Easier than he made it look the first time, Steve got his feet under himself and stood.
When Sam pulled on the line, Steve followed. Outside, Sam looked around and spotted Willy walking toward him. He waited for him to approach, “I could use a little help here. You have a pipe wrench or a pair of vice grips?”
Willy patted his pockets, “Nope, not on me, but I can get some.”
“Here I thought you were always ready for anything. Wasn’t that the motto?”
Willy seemed to recognize Sam’s words and frowned, “Not for what you’re going to do. Hang on a minute.” He jogged back to the feed store and returned in seconds with a pipe wrench and the vice grips. “What’s your pleasure?”
He heard the sound of hooves on pavement and saw Olivia in the buggy followed my Gina with the buckboard. They didn’t appear to be having the same problems driving the horses that he had, and Sam decided that it must be a girl thing.
“I’d like to get this done so we can get out of here.”
“Lead the way…today I am your nigger.” He said it with a grin, but let it fade when Sam stopped and turned to him.
“You think it’s okay for you to use that term, but for me, it’s not. It’s the most derogatory label you could put on another person. You want to think of yourself like that, that’s one thing, but I don’t want to listen to it, nor do I want our kids to hear it. That’s one label best forgotten.”
“Yes, suh! Boss man.” Willy showed Sam all of his teeth in an over-exaggerated smile, and then laughed at his joke.
“And you can quit with the obedient slave crap too. It’s not the least bit becoming.” Sam turned and began walking down the street pulling Steve behind him. He waved at Gina when he reached the main road and continued to the freeway off ramp. Sam stood looking up the ramp as if searching for something. He saw there weren't many options and picked the nearest light pole.
“Look at the base. There should be a plate with some bolts in it, take the bolts out, and the plate should swing away. He waited for Willy to do what he’d asked. Looking at the feed store in the distance, he saw the wagon had been backed up to the doorway, and he wondered how Gina had accomplished that. He’d had a hard time taking them around a corner without bungling it up.
“Now what?” Willy asked, examining the inside workings. Electric, how do you…” he looked up at the ring of lights high above them. He nodded and removed the cover off the motor, clamped the vice grips on the shaft and began to turn. The progress was slow without electricity to run the motor, but they could see the cable lowering the ring of lights.
When it was head high, Sam told him to stop and threw the bitter end of the rope up over the metal frame that held the light. He tied a bowline and stepped back. He nodded at Willy, and accompanied by occasional grunts; Willy winched Steve up until he was twenty feet off the ground.
“Where did you go when you left?”
Willy didn’t ask when he was talking about, “I loaded up my shoeing gear. Thought it might be something you could use. I got a portable forge and some bar steel to make shoes out of if we need to.”
They looked up, and they could see Steve glaring down at them. Every time he moved his legs he would swing a little.
“Where’d you learn that trick?”
“In the service. The enemy used to cut the prisoners just enough so they’d bleed out slowly and then string them up like that. They didn’t want them to die too quickly. They wanted people to see them and learn from them.”
Willy nodded, and he and Sam walked back to the feed store in companionable silence. They found the wagon pulled away from the door, with Gina and Olivia sitting in the buggy. Both of them were red-faced and puffing as if they had exhausted themselves. They were sharing a bottle of water.
He had thought it hadn’t taken long for them to string Steve up, but looking up at the sun, Sam realized more time had passed than he’d thought. The trip back was going to take much longer than the trip coming to St. Regis. The wagons would both be a burden on the horses who were not used to pulling them, but Sam didn’t want to unharness them and start over again the next morning.
“We’re going to have a full moon tonight. Plenty of light to see by, if that’s what you’re wondering. Be a shame to waste all that work getting them gussied up like that.”
“You two want to take a pass through and make sure we didn’t miss anything? Instead of standing around doing nothing?”
While Sam checked the loft room, Willy walked through the showroom. He was checking under the shelves, when he found a box of rubber gloves under one and a white plastic bottle under another. He reached under and grabbed it. Still on his knees, Willy he read the label. ‘Phenylbutazone Powder’ He thought it was something they could use. The warning said it was for use in horses only and not for human consumption, but he thought if they could figure out the dosing ratio, and it worked for pain and swelling in horses, it might come in handy for them too. He remembered during his short time shoeing at the race track people talked of taking horse bute.
The cash register was an antique with no locking device that Willy could see, but it had been stripped of everything but some receipts under the cash drawer. He grabbed them for the paper value and remembered that he had a case of printer paper as well as some notebooks which would have value somewhere down the line. Maybe Sam would be willing to drive back past the restaurant, where he had an apartment in the back and pick the paper up. The wagon was pretty full, but he was sure anything he had would not overburden the horses. They could go out to the freeway by going west through town and not have to backtrack.
Willy told Gina and Sam about his printing supplies, and both agreed they would stop and get them. He wondered if he shouldn’t have them go through his place and see what else he hadn’t thought to be useful. He had already made plans to leave St. Regis as soon as his mother passed, but he had only planned on taking what he could pack on his back. Having the wagon had opened up a whole new avenue of thought.
When Sam pulled up in front of the restaurant, Willy jumped down, “I’m going to ask Gina to make a quick run-through and see if there’s anything else you can use. There’s no food, but there could be something.”
“If we don’t go with her, we’ll never get out of town,” His voice sounded like he was joking, but Willy heard some truth behind his words.
“I’ll wait out here, and you go. One of us should keep and eye on things, just in case.”
Sam nodded and went to get Gina to come with him. Inside the small apartment, there wasn’t much. Willy had the bare necessities and nothing else. On the top shelf of his closet Gina pulled down a short stack of blankets, and Sam pulled out a package of plastic wrapped toilet paper. He grinned when he held it up for G
ina to see. He thought that of all of the creature comforts he would miss, toilet paper was at the top of his list.
On the single nightstand, Gina picked up a hinged frame. She must have thought it had value and put it between the blankets. Willy had been right about not having food, but he did have some spices they could use. Gina went and got a gym bag off the floor of the closet, put the picture on the bottom, and filled it with every bottle, jar, and can as well as the decorative bottles from the wall spice rack. From his silverware drawer, she rescued a can opener as well as some tongs and other paraphernalia she deemed necessary.
Finally, Sam had to put a stop to her scavenging when he saw she intended to go through every drawer.
She gave him her eye roll and pouty face but agreed. Reluctantly. Gina pulled the door to the apartment closed behind them and went out to the wagon. Sam carried the box of paper with the toilet paper sitting on top while she carried the blankets and gym bag.
Willy looked around from the wagon seat and knew he was starting over again, just like he had been when he’d moved there after his time in the service. He had started his life out in the projects, raised by a single parent when his father had walked out before he was born. His mother had spent her life doing what she thought was right by him and Willy had never forgotten. He had given up his career as a country artist/bull rider to enlist in the Army and given it up to look after her because it was the right thing to do. To be embarking on a whole new journey with people he barely knew was going to be just another adventure. He counted his accomplishments and knew that he was a lucky man. He sat back and let Sam guide them away, not once looking back, just as he had always done. His mother had always told him that when one door closed another would open, and by God she was right. He had every intention of walking through it. He had judged both Sam and Gina to be fair and honest folks and he couldn’t imagine their group being any different. Sam’s reluctance to kill needlessly, had impressed Willy and unlike Willy’s outlook, who had always believed that you stepped on the cockroach before it moved in. He hated to think of the killing that was ahead of them, but he was a pessimist and knew they weren’t done yet. There would always be someone who wanted to take, no matter what the cost. He had already seen that in St. Regis since the lights went out and he was ready to move on.
Beyond the New Horizon (Book 3): Living on the Edge Page 15
