Edgar relaxed a bit. “That’s a relief.”
“Why do you say that?”
“She left me a note. It threw me for a loop. Maybe I’m getting too suspicious in my old age.”
“Can I see it?”
Edgar handed Jim the note.
“I thought maybe she was in some sort of trouble,” Edgar said.
Jim read the note. “What makes you say that?” Molly was at Jim’s side. He passed the note to her.
“The way it’s written, the words she used, the little squiggle near the end of it. I thought it looked like a Z with a slash through it.”
“It does,” Jim replied.
“I agree,” Molly said as she returned the note to Edgar.
“Who is this woman?” Edgar asked, as he put the note away.
“My partner, Officer Hamilton,” Jim replied.
Edgar nodded a greeting at Molly and turned his attention back to Stiles. “It’s just as well Karen is with Phil. I can kill two birds with one stone.”
“Meaning?”
“Family business, Jim.” He clutched and put the truck in gear. “It’s not your concern.”
Jim reached in, killed the engine, and took the key from the ignition.
Edgar gave him a hard look. “Why did you do that?”
“What if Karen is in trouble?”
“Sitting here jabbering with you and your partner won’t answer that question,” Edgar snapped. “I’m sure it’s just a family visit.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Edgar. Karen hasn’t stepped onto Slash Z property in over twenty years, if ever. And we’re just back from Arizona, where we had a nice chat with Eugene’s wife, Louise. So whatever is going on, we’re in on it. Now, I’m going to call and talk to Phil before any of us move down that road.”
“What for?”
“Because I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Was Kevin Kerney with Karen today?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen my daughter since early this morning.”
Jim stepped back to the Mustang, grabbed the cellular phone, and dialed the number. Phil’s wife, Doris, answered.
“Doris, this is Jim Stiles. Is Phil home?”
“Jim! I was so very sorry to hear what happened to you. Are you up and around now?”
“I’m much better, thanks. Is Phil there?”
“Not yet.”
“Do you know where he is?” Jim asked.
“I have no idea.”
“Is he with Eugene?”
“No. But Sheriff Gatewood is. His police car is parked outside.”
“Is anyone with Omar, Doris?”
“I think so. PJ said he saw a man with him. I don’t know who it is.”
“Let me talk to PJ.”
“He’s down at the barn doing chores,” Doris said. “If you miss Phil, I’ll let him know you called when he gets home.”
“Thanks, Doris.” Jim hit the disconnect button. “Phil and Karen haven’t showed up yet, and Omar Gatewood, who was supposed to be in Silver City, is with Gene. He brought somebody with him. I think it may be Kerney.
“I’m going to give you some lawful orders, Edgar, and I expect you to follow them,” Jim continued. “Officer Hamilton and I are going to ride in the back of your truck. If we see anything unusual at all, I’ll order you to stop. Do it right away. If not, just before you reach the ranch, there’s a slight downgrade as you come around the last hill.”
“I grew up here, damn it!”
“Yes, sir. I know that. Stop the truck before the curve and stay in the vehicle until I do a sweep, just to make sure everything is all right.”
“Is all this necessary?” Edgar demanded, as he took the truck keys back from Stiles.
Cody looked at Jim with wide, excited eyes. Edgar pulled him away from the open window and sat him down on the seat.
“Just do as I say, Mr. Cox,” Jim said in exasperation. “Understand?”
“I can follow orders.”
“Good. Are you carrying any firearms?”
“There’s a Colt thirty-eight in the glove box.”
“Grab it by the barrel and hand it over.”
Edgar gave Jim the pistol, and he handed it to Molly. “Hold on to this for me.”
“This is ridiculous,” Edgar said.
“Maybe so, but Padilla Canyon taught me a lesson. I’m not making any more assumptions about what is safe and what isn’t until I check things out.”
“You’d better know what you’re doing,” Edgar warned.
Bouncing along in the back of the truck, Molly sat with the pistol cradled in her hands. She looked at the gun and glanced over at Jim, who was resting against the wheel well.
“Officer Hamilton?” she whispered.
Jim grimaced. “I didn’t want to tell him you were my girl.”
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“I think so.”
“It turns you on, doesn’t it?”
“What turns me on?”
“Cop stuff.”
Jim chewed his lip before answering. “Yeah, sometimes it does. Does that bother you?”
“No. What bothers me is that maybe you’ll get hurt again.”
EUGENE COX sat in his wheelchair in the front room dressed in starched military fatigues. An AK-47 rested against the side of the chair. On the collar of his shirt were the eagles of a bird colonel, and on the left sleeve he wore a Catron County Militia unit patch. Freshly shaved, Eugene had combed his hair straight back over his ears.
The room was trashed with newspapers, magazines, military training manuals, maps, and a clutter of old household appliances that would make an antique dealer drool. There was a floor-size Emerson radio against one wall with a Polar Cub oscillating fan on top that pushed warm air around the room, fluttering the piles of newspapers.
Gatewood forced Kerney to sit on the floor and stood behind him. Kerney smiled up at Eugene Cox. The old man ignored him. Caressing the barrel of the AK-47, he spoke to Omar.
“Where is Phil?”
“He’ll be along shortly with Karen,” Gatewood replied. “We thought it best not to travel together.”
Eugene nodded.
“I’ll tell you what I told Phil,” Omar added. “You’ll have to do your own dirty work on this one.”
“Covering your ass, Omar? Or are you just a pantywaist?”
“You figure it out.”
Eugene grunted. “Sometimes I think you’re just another dumb-ass politician.”
“Think whatever you like,” Omar replied. “You still have to kill them if you want them dead.”
“Fine.” Eugene shifted his gaze to Kerney. “Why are you smiling at me like a jackass? What’s so damn funny?”
“Was I smiling?” Kerney answered.
Eugene’s eyes bored into Kerney. “Don’t be a smartass. Answer the question.”
Kerney considered the man in the wheelchair dressed in combat fatigues with his useless legs dangling to the floor. “I was admiring your uniform.”
Eugene sneered. “You like it?”
“Not really. But I’d love to hear about the militia.”
Eugene threw his head back, smiled widely, and showed his stained teeth. “I bet you would.”
“Why did you go after Jim Stiles?”
“Because he’s the enemy, just like you. He’s a diehard conservationist who doesn’t understand history.”
“What history is that?” Kerney asked.
“The history of revolution. The history of this country. The history of the men who settled the West. Who in the hell do you think preserved the land before the environmentalists began beating the drum? Ranchers. Ranchers brought the elk back. Ranchers protected the antelope. Ranchers saved the white-tailed deer.”
“What’s your point?”
“Blind, stupid government,” Eugene roared. “That’s my point. When a man can’t manage his land as he sees fit, something ain’t right. The government forces us to move fences so elk can migrate, te
lls us to keep our cattle away from streams to protect the fish, orders us to shut down winter pasture that can’t be replaced because it’s a habitat for some worthless, disease-carrying rodent or an exotic butterfly nobody gives a damn about. It doesn’t make a fucking bit of sense.”
Eugene warmed to his speechifying. “We pay taxes, higher grazing fees, and we still can’t use the land the way God intended it to be used. We get shit on, and shit for it.”
“It’s a tough life,” Kerney noted with sarcasm.
“Government interference will stop. That’s what the militia stands for. That’s what we’re all about.”
“Killing people will certainly get the government’s attention,” Kerney said, tired of Gene’s harangue. He changed the subject. “Who shot Jim Stiles?”
“Phil,” Eugene said proudly. “He volunteered. Is there anything else you’re dying to know?”
“Tell me what happened between you and Edgar at Elderman Meadows.”
Eugene chuckled. “It’s a good story.”
“I’d love to hear it.”
Eugene thought about it for a minute. “Why not?” He grinned. “But you’ve gotta promise you won’t tell.”
“I promise,” Kerney replied.
Eugene slapped his thigh and chuckled. “I like a man with a sense of humor. Back when Edgar and I were boys, our daddy sent us to Mangas Mountain to herd Padilla’s sheep down to where some trucks were waiting to load them up. Now, Edgar had this real deep moral, do-right streak to him—he still does, far as I can tell—so Daddy told him we were just gonna be helping Padilla move his stock out of the mountains.
“Of course, we were rustling, but Daddy knew Edgar wouldn’t stand for that, so he made up a helping-hand story for Edgar to swallow, figuring when it was all over the damage would be done and Edgar would have to put up with it or get the shit kicked out of him. He got the shit kicked out of him a lot back in those days.”
“But not you, I bet,” Kerney proposed.
“Hell, no, not me. My daddy and I thought alike in a lot of ways. He trusted me. Relied on me as I got older.
“We got the herd delivered and were coming back home when snow started falling. When we reached the meadows we heard sheep bleating off on one of those little fingers where the open land snakes into the forest. It sounded like a goodly number, and we were short about twenty-five head on the drive down, so Edgar and I went looking.
“About a quarter mile in from the last stretch of meadow we found them in this craterlike field that was ringed by trees and a rock cliff. Never would have found it if it hadn’t been for the bleating. The tree canopy looks unbroken until you get right under it. You could tell it had been used for a long time as a natural corral. Grass was scant, and there were old campsites all over the place.
“Well, Edgar wanted to take those sheep right to Don Luis, but I knew Daddy wanted every last one of them gone. He got real riled when I started shooting those lambs and ewes. I had to stand him down with my rifle until the job was done.
“When I was finished, we walked out of that crater to our horses. Edgar was crying like a baby. We ran smack into Don Luis, who wanted to know where his sheep were, and what the hell all the shooting was about. I had no choice but to kill him. Just as I pulled the trigger, Edgar shot me in the back with his pistol.”
Eugene threw back his head and laughed bitterly. “The poor son of a bitch couldn’t even kill me. Being the moral, self-righteous little pussy he is, he carried me home. My daddy beat him within an inch of his life before the doctor came.”
“Didn’t anyone raise a question about the slaughtered sheep?”
Eugene snickered. “There wasn’t anyone left who gave a damn enough to ask questions. The Padillas had all scattered. Besides, by the time the spring thaw came, coyotes had picked those sheep clean.”
“Still, Calvin had to hush it up,” Kerney proposed. “How did he do it?”
“With money. How else? Besides that, there wasn’t a white man in Catron County who would side against us with the Padillas. I doubt there are many today who would.” Eugene switched his attention to Gatewood. “Omar, are you going to arrest me now that you’ve heard my confession?”
“I don’t think so,” Gatewood answered.
Eugene nodded his approval at Omar’s reply. “See what I mean?”
“Does killing Karen even the score with Edgar?”
Eugene showed his stained teeth and smirked. “It doesn’t even come close. Why are you sneering at me?”
“Wearing army fatigues with eagles on your collar doesn’t make you a colonel,” Kerney said. “Your brother won his rank in battle. All you are is a sick, crazy old man playing soldier.”
Eugene snarled, picked up the AK-47, rolled the wheelchair within striking range, and slammed the butt on Kerney’s gimpy knee. The pain sent shock waves through him.
THEY FOUND PHIL COX in his wrecked truck, chained to the steering wheel, barely conscious, and incoherent. He had a smashed cheekbone and an ugly bruise on his left temple. Jim checked his vital signs while steam hissed out of the cracked truck radiator. Edgar Cox leaned over Jim’s shoulder with panic on his face, demanding that he ask about Karen.
Phil’s eyes were unfocused. All he did was grunt when Jim grilled him about Karen. Stiles got everybody back in the truck, took over the driving, and kept his eyes peeled, hoping Karen would come into view. They caught up to her at the last curve in the road that dipped down to the ranch. Jim killed the engine, and with Edgar at his side he ran to her.
Jim had to pry the Winchester from her hands. Karen grudgingly let it go, looking at him with smoldering eyes that were as dangerous as any he had ever seen.
Edgar enveloped her in a hug. Karen remained immobile, her arms locked against her side. Some of the tenseness faded, and she raised a hand and patted her father reassuringly on the back.
Molly and the kids surrounded her, the children jabbering and scared. Karen’s expression softened. She let go of Edgar, dropped to one knee, and wrapped Cody and Elizabeth in her arms. Jim hushed everybody up and corralled them back to the truck. With Cody on her lap and an arm wrapped around Elizabeth, Karen sat on the tailgate and answered Jim’s questions.
When Jim had heard enough, he gently squeezed Karen’s hand in appreciation. “That was one hell of a thing you did.”
“It wasn’t half what I should have done,” Karen said hotly.
“You did enough. Now we know what we’re facing.” He turned to Edgar. “We need a new plan.”
“I’m going with you,” Edgar snarled.
Jim nodded. “I’ll take the point on this one.” He looked at the sky. Thick clouds were gun-metal gray. “Molly, stay here with Karen and the children. If anybody comes anywhere near you in a threatening manner, shoot him. We’ll sort it out later.”
“I’ll do it,” Karen said flatly.
Karen’s eyes were smoking again. An argument wasn’t worth the time. “Fine,” he said. “Both of you can do it. Take turns.” He swung back to Edgar. “You’re going to be my distraction. Give me ten minutes to get into position before you drive down there. I want to be inside the house when you pull up.”
Edgar glanced at Jim’s sling. “You’re wounded. I should be the one going in.”
Jim pulled his arm free and felt the stitches in his biceps start to pop. “I want you under cover at all times.”
“I’ll use the truck.”
“Good enough. Put a couple of rounds into the house to get their attention. And for chrissake, don’t shoot me or Kerney.”
“Don’t worry, son. I know how to take fire and put steel on a hard target.”
“I believe you do, Colonel Cox.”
Jim looked at the group. Molly and Karen seemed solid. Cody and Elizabeth were wide-eyed with apprehension.
“Nobody here is going to get hurt,” Jim said to the children. “I want you both to do exactly what your mother and Molly tell you.”
The children nodded gravely.
“Are you set?” he asked Edgar.
“Ten minutes and counting,” Edgar replied, looking at his wristwatch.
Jim kissed Molly.
“I thought she was your partner,” Edgar said.
“I lied.”
“I am,” said Molly.
Jim flashed her an enormous smile and kissed her again. “I partially lied,” he said to Edgar.
With Molly’s 9mm in his waistband, Jim trotted down the hill and started a curving loop toward the ranch house. Behind him he heard Cody announce in a loud voice that he wanted to go with Grandfather.
“You’re staying right here, young man,” Karen said, holding Cody back with a hand clamped firmly on his shoulder. He pouted, stomped his foot, and tried unsuccessfully to pull free. She didn’t let go until Edgar drove around the bend and out of sight.
Cody waited until the other lady said something to his mother that made her look away. Then he darted into some bushes at the side of the road and started running full-tilt down the hill to catch up with Grandfather.
OMAR DIALED KAREN’S NUMBER and let it ring for a long time before hanging up. He put the receiver down and stared at Kerney as though he were responsible for Phil’s lateness.
Kerney sat in the middle of the floor where he’d been dumped. The cuffs cut into his wrists, and his knee felt as if it had been blown out.
“They should have been here by now,” Gatewood said, walking back to his position behind Kerney.
Eugene Cox had the AK-47 resting on both arms of the wheelchair, his fingers near the trigger housing. It was loaded with a full clip. “Go find them,” he ordered. “I’ll take care of Kerney.”
Gatewood hitched up his belt and puffed out his cheeks. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
Eugene gave him a scornful look. “Don’t treat me like a cripple. Get going.”
As Omar turned for the door, he heard the sound of an engine and tires on gravel. “No need to,” he said as he walked to the window to look out. “Phil’s here.”
“That’s not Phil’s truck,” Gene said. “I know the sound of it.”
Two shots shattered the window high up and bits of glass rained down on Gatewood. He ducked beneath the sill and looked over at Eugene.
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