by Rita Karnopp
He stood, bold, daring . . . a man. He wouldn't hide behind a boulder, or behind prejudices. He would fight to save and protect the woman he loved, the Indian woman he loved.
"Gordon Jenkins, prepare to die," he shouted.
In an instant Gordon twirled around, knife in hand. "So, half-breed, you've finally showed yourself. I killed you once, I can do it again."
"What makes you think I'll stay dead? Three rattlesnakes bit me, yet here I am. My leg was broken, yet here I am. Look at me, I am healed. The old ones are angry with you, Gordon Jenkins. They have sent me as their messenger."
Gordon laughed boisterously. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you? Once you're out of the way, for good, your mother will gladly sell the ranch. If she refuses, I foresee the ranch house burning down, with her in it. I've told you this before. It's gonna happen."
Staring, cold and firm, into the eyes of Gordon, Brett took a step forward. He stood, legs spread, before his enemy. "Prepare to die. I'll kill you before I let you harm those I love."
"I won't hurt the kid. Sean is Lorraine's son and mine. We'll be a family. We'll be rich beyond our wildest dreams. She'll stay with me, you'll see."
"You're dreaming, Gordon," Brett said, stepping closer. "Lorraine loves money. Why do you think she left? We bored her. She likes fun, drinking, drugs, and money. She isn’t a loving wife and mother. Lorraine never wanted Sean. She admitted he might be yours, maybe mine, or several other possibilities. She used you like she used me. The difference is . . . I love Sean."
"You're wrong. I called Lorraine and she said she'd come back to me. I'm going to build her a beautiful new house. I’ll give her everything she's ever wanted and she’ll never leave me like she left you."
"You poor stupid fool. When are you going to realize she doesn't love you? She's incapable of love. She easily gets bored with just one man. Maybe you deserve each other."
"You're jealous she chose me. Well, she did," Gordon said in a superior tone.
Brett shook his head, and then chuckled. "I'm relieved to be rid of her. I could give a shit, to be honest. If you want Lorraine so badly, why do you still have Willow? She isn't much use to you. You don't love her. Matter-of-fact, Willow is in your way as your wife, isn't she?"
"She won't be in my way for long."
“I know, you told me. But what if Wyatt's dead already?" Brett took a slow step forward.
"What do you mean, dead already? I just talked to him today. I didn't kill him, yet."
"He panicked and told Mike Ferrell your whole plan. It's over. You'd be smart to let Willow leave with me. Since everyone thinks you're dead, why don't you leave and never come back," Brett suggested, stepping closer to Willow.
"They won't be able to prove I'm involved with any of this. Without proof, you're shit outta luck," Gordon said, his laugh rising slightly. “I'm sticking to my plan.”
"You're a ruthless, heartless man, Gordon Jenkins. Listen. Do you hear the drums? Do you hear the chanting? Do you hear the rattles? Listen, Gordon, the old ones have come to question you."
"Bullshit! I don't believe in all this mumbo-jumbo.” Gordon looked around, his body movements revealing his discomfort and fear. “I don't hear a damn thing."
"The old ones say you've been robbing artifacts from the sacred grounds. Is that true?"
"You're making it up, right?" Gordon stepped back.
"But you have. Even dead men need money to live, right? Did you think you'd get away with it? The sacred grounds are protected by the ancestors," Brett explained, moving forward.
"You don't scare me!"
"I'm not trying to. Listen to the drums. They're angry. Listen to the rattles. They have unrest about them. Listen carefully to the old ones. They're here to pass judgment on you." Brett adjusted his bow higher toward Gordon.
"You don't scare me," Gordon repeated, his tone weaker than before.
"I'm not trying to. I know you hear it. I know you're guilty, and so do you. You need to be punished for the way you've treated Willow Howling Moon. Do you think they approve how you've treated their daughter? You promised to take care of her and protect her from harm. You turned against her and her people. They want revenge. No, I take that back. They want justice." Brett lowered the bow, astonished by the growing fever of the old ones' dancing. Their disgust, anger, and purpose became transparent.
In what seemed like a dark mist, a skeletal figure emerged. The transparent warrior gripped Gordon's hand and it bled, leaving a puddle of blood in the soft dirt. Quickly a second and third warrior stepped from the ominous darkness. The warriors surrounded Gordon and prodded him along until they pulled him into the swirling dark mist with them.
Gordon's blood-curdling screams drowned out the rhythmic beating drums. The old ones took the offender into a twisting, fierce funnel, which spun into nothingness.
Brett sat. Droplets of perspiration rolled from his forehead, separating at the bridge of his nose, and then finally making paths down both sides of his cheeks. Wiping at the moisture with his palms, Brett realized he still remained hidden in Willow's barn. He thumped his mud-cast hard with his right knuckle and winced. It certainly hadn't healed.
The buffalo stone necklace from his dream now hung from his neck in the real world. If he told Willow, would she believe him? Brett moved his palm over the stone and felt peace and a sense of belonging.
The small, stifling enclosure imprisoned him. Low casting sunbeams filtering through the slits in the barn walls told him it soon would be night. He wondered what Willow had accomplished all day. He desperately wanted to be there if she needed him. He felt worthless.
* * *
Mike pulled his sheriff's rig to a stop. Willow didn't miss his curious and careful glances around. He smiled and she returned the gesture. She only hoped Mike was as good a friend as Brett thought.
She hadn't wanted to tell him that she didn't care that much for Mike, who seemed to be a loner, almost to a point of annoyance. He might be good at his job, but not especially good with people.
"Willow Jenkins," Mike called out, nodding a hello.
"Willow Howling Moon," she corrected.
"My apologies.Can't blame you much."
"That's supposed to mean what?" she asked, convinced she'd never be able to like this coy man.
"Nothing exactly. Well, I heard some stuff. People do talk, whether we want them to or not. I just meant I don't blame you for dropping the last name. He wasn't exactly good to you or Lance. It's none of my business. That's not why I'm here, is it?"
"Come on in for coffee and we'll talk." She needed to check the house before telling Mike anything about Brett. Without waiting for Mike to answer, she led the way back inside and busied herself with making a pot of coffee.
"You care to tell me the last time you saw Brett?" Mike asked in a deep, sheriff-like tone.
Willow pressed her index finger to her lips and motioned for him to keep talking with her fingers, and then she looked around for lingering listeners. Straining to hear anything but the deep voice of Mike coming from the kitchen, she found the back door unlocked, with a slightly disarrayed rug in front of it. Staring down at a dark puddle, she bent to look closer . . . blood, she thought. It had to be from Gordon's hand. She returned to the kitchen, convinced that Gordon had left the house.
"He's gone for now." she said, her tone nearly a whisper.
"Who are you talking about?"
"Before I answer you, tell me one thing. How good a friend are you to Brett?"
His expression turned serious. "I would take a bullet for him, if it came down to it. He's maybe the only real friend I have. I don't get too personal with most folks, gets in the way of doing my job. I need to be impartial. Keeping a distance helps me accomplish that."
"I see your point. If I were to tell you someone tried killing Brett by dropping him over Rattlesnake Cliff, would you believe me?"
"What? Good God, so it's come to this, has it? I should have known. I knew that slime ball Wya
tt was up to something. I tried catching him sabotaging Brett's place several times, but he's always slipped away. Damn. You did say, tried to kill Brett, right?"
She read the genuine concern in Mike's expressive face. "Brett's alive and well actually. I won't begin to explain it. I think I'll leave that one up to him. He asked me to call you. Said to tell you he needed your help."
"I'll do whatever he asks.” Mike got to his feet. “Can I see him?"
"Sit down and have a cup of coffee." She poured two cups, grabbed the cookie canister, and sat across from Mike. "There's more."
"More?"
"Wyatt is a big part of this whole scheme. But it's much bigger than any of us suspected. Gordon is alive," she blurted out, nearly choking on the words.
"Gordon Jenkins?” He jerked to his feet. "Not possible! Willow, you can't expect me to believe you." He pulled his fingers through his thick brown hair. "Gordon alive? I buried that bas . . . I buried him. Most God-awful, gruesome task I've ever had to do. I've had nightmares about it near every night these past months. I'm sorry, Willow, it just isn't possible." He sank back into his chair and took a long sip of hot coffee.
"If Brett told you Gordon's alive, would you believe it then?"
"I expect it would take Brett telling me. No offense."
"None taken.Couldn't believe it myself. I still don't want to believe it. I wish he were dead," she whispered.
"Can't blame you. Don't especially like the man myself. I nearly had him . . . never mind. Where is Gordon?"
"I don't know. He was here and I stabbed him in the hand with a knife. I can't begin to tell you how timely your appearance was when you drove up just now. He couldn't very well show himself to you yet.” Willow paused to offer Mike a chocolate chip cookie and set the jar back on the table. “He has a plan, and I've ruined it. You can be sure he'll come up with a new one. He'll be most convincing, but first he must eliminate a few people who can prove otherwise, like Brett and me."
"Where's Brett?"
"Come with me."
Chapter Fifteen
Someone was moving the entrance bales, interrupting the silence. Brett tensed. Had Gordon or Wyatt found his hiding place? He glanced around for a weapon and slowly moved his palm over a smooth, carved, wooden bow. He stared at it in disbelief.
"Go on inside, I'll keep guard," Willow said.
Brett wished she had come inside. He longed to see her beauty. His heart quickened just by hearing her voice.
"Brett?" Mike asked. "What the hell happened to your leg?"
"A long story. I knew I could count on you to come. This is the craziest situation I've ever found myself in. I'm hallucinating and dreaming like a drunkard."
"What happened?"
Brett motioned for his friend to sit. "Willow explained everything, didn't she?" he asked.
"She said Gordon is alive. Told her I'd have to hear you say that before I could consider believing it."
"Well, it's true. I didn't just get a passing glimpse of him, Mike. He talked to me. Bragged about coming back from the dead. Said he knew about Willow and me. Damn his soul!"
"You and Willow? I find that about as hard to believe as Gordon being alive."
Brett laughed. He couldn't help himself. "I know what you mean. We can't believe it either. A lot of good it does us. That sorry excuse of a man is alive." He clenched his jaw.
"Whose body parts did I gather? The man had Gordon's wallet, scorpion medallion and chain. A set-up?"
Brett nodded. "But the way Jenkins tells it, you hit the body with your car first. They led you to believe it was Gordon, to keep you quiet. It would have been manslaughter. Any truth to that?"
"Some. I've only told my immediate supervisor this, but it seems time to tell it now. Wyatt pushed that body in front of my car, no doubt about it. I had a hard time believing the corpse was Gordon, too. I also knew my car couldn't have smashed-in that guys face the way it was. I kept quiet, letting Wyatt believe I felt responsible, hoping he'd get careless and slip, or that he’d take me into his confidence. I believed it was only a matter of time before I'd figured it out and exposed the truth. It's been six months and I'm starting to believe the body must have been Gordon's. Your mishaps at the ranch have kept me going. I always seem to be three steps behind Wyatt."
"I knew you wouldn't cover up the truth," Brett said, relieved.
"It's murder, plain and simple. Three bullets were found in that mess. Wyatt shot the dead body only twice in my presence. If Gordon's alive, you can bet he inflicted the first shot that killed that man. They made sure his face was unrecognizable before they pushed the body in front of my car. But I'll never be able to prove it, unless one of them confesses. Gordon and Wyatt have managed to stay ahead of me, so far."
"Before seeing Gordon, I believed Wyatt had been either the murderer or accomplice," Brett said. “But it didn't make sense. I thought about motive and could only come up with Willow. Now I realize they'd implicated her, wanting me to think she pulled off the mishaps at the ranch. Wyatt is―"
"The accomplice," Mike interrupted, rubbing his chin. "I have no proof. I never believed he could have pulled off any murder. Never thought he had the balls for it. Yet, he was my only suspect. From the beginning I knew Wyatt was involved, but not the brains. Gordon Jenkins made a mistake by showing up. Before, I couldn't prove a thing. Now I have strong suspicions. He not only could have accomplished your run of bad luck, but I believe he was, oops, I mean is capable of murder."
"He tried killing me. Came damn close to accomplishing it too." Brett adjusted his weight, moving his cast with his hands.
"Willow said Gordon tossed you over Rattlesnake Cliff. How on earth did you climb up out of there?"
Brett knew it would be only a matter of minutes before Mike asked about the cast. "I'll tell you some day, over a cold beer and a hot campfire. For now, let’s just say I broke my leg on the fall down that overhang, and was lucky enough to get out alive."
"Gordon Jenkins alive! It's going to cause a stir. I thought this day would never come. We still need proof or a confession."
"We'll never get one from Gordon." Brett leaned back on his elbows. "That cowardly Wyatt might fold."
"You've got something there. I'll have forensics check every gun in Jenkins' house." Mike stated, rubbing his hands together. "If we're lucky we'll find the weapon,"
"Jenkins said the dead guy was a transient. No loss to society," Brett said, his words slowed by his heavy thoughts. "What if you make Wyatt believe you're pinning Gordon's murder on him? He might spill his guts."
"We need a motive."
"Easy. He wanted Gordon's wife and property. The man is near broke right now. He plans to force my mother to sell cheap. If I'm dead, then he'll have all three properties. Of course there’s the matter of finding oil."
"Oil? What oil?"
"It appears Gordon and Wyatt found oil on my ranch."
"Now that’s mighty interesting, and enough motive for me. Wyatt knows we can't prove he killed Gordon, but you could press charges for attempted murder and damages of another man's property. It could get him years behind bars. If my guess is right, he'll start singing the right song."
"Mike, your devious mind is not fitting for an upstanding sheriff," Brett joked.
"Damn, did Willow make that cast for you? Kinda homely, sort of fits you though," Mike taunted.
"And to think I called you a friend," Brett answered, feeling better than he had in days. He leaned forward. "I think Willow's in great danger. Watch out for her, would you?"
"I understand the situation. You can count on me," Mike answered. "You'd best stay right here," he said, patting Brett's strange cast. "I'm sure it's boring and downright confining, but if either of those bastards find you, they won’t hesitate to kill you. I don't want to attend your funeral this early in life."
Brett gave his friend a smile. "I appreciate your help. Gordon is getting what he deserves, the old ones are seeing to that. Don't ask me to explain. He may
not have been dead before, but he is slowly bleeding to death now."
"First you try convincing me Gordon is alive, and now you're trying to convince me he's dying. Don't suppose you care to elaborate a little? You reduced to having women's intuition, or is that Indian blood of yours finally catching up with you?" Mike covered his broad grin with a fist against his lip.
"You've worn out your welcome, Mike. Keep making those comments, and you'll be wearing that grin inside out."
"You're flat on your back and making threats? You never know when to keep your mouth shut, do you? I'll check back with you later. I'm going to file a report on what we've discussed so far. I think I'll leave out the part where you believe Gordon is being killed by your ancestors." Mike rubbed his palm over Brett's cast. "Strangest thing I've ever seen," he mumbled. "I'm going to pay Wyatt a not-so-friendly visit. I'll check in with you later," he said, as he backed out of the enclosure. "He's all yours, Willow. Never thought I'd see the day when you two would ever say two civil words to each other, and mean it."
Brett smiled. Mike's reference to Indian blood stuck in his thoughts. A few days earlier he'd have landed a fist in his friend's face for that comment. It slowly dawned on Brett, not all comments about Indians were meant as degradation. It had been his own feelings about them that clouded his judgment and reactions.
Willow sat beside Brett. "You're looking so much better."
"I'm feeling a lot better. I'll be glad when this is over and we can get the boys back. I miss Sean something awful. I'm sure you're feeling the same about Lance." He watched her slow smile. Warmth washed over her features, and he loved her all the more.
"My son has been my inspiration. He has great excitement in learning about his ancestors. He's a true friend to Sean and he's been the kind of son a mother can be proud of."
"I know what you mean." He offered his arm for her to nestle against, welcoming her warmth and earthy scent.
