Too Tough To Tame: Red: Book 2

by Darrell Maloney

  Once he’d learned that little pearl of information, Sloan turned white.

  Because others had seen the robbery. Others who knew Sloan by name.

  And because Manny Snow, the head of the local drug syndicate before the blackout, had used his power and influence to survive where most others hadn’t.

  Manny was mean even before the lights went out and ruined his drug business. He’d worked hard for many years to build it up, and he took it personally when the streets went dark and most of his dealers and addicts started dying off.

  In the year since then, he’d tried his best to revive the business, and now owned the only crystal meth operation in south central Texas.

  Before the blackout, illicit drugs were a cash-only business.

  Now they were gold or silver only, but it still pretty much worked the same way.

  Drug kingpins were still pretty ruthless, and Manny Snow was the most ruthless of all. Others who tried to move in on him and take away his monopoly on the meth market were usually found in several pieces.

  The torso, minus the genitals, was usually found in one lonely field outside of Austin. The fingernails and toenails were always missing, the fingers and toes all broken, the genitals sliced off with a rusty machete while the victim was still alive.

  In a different lonely field, several miles away, the head would eventually be found, the face still frozen with the look of horror and pain it held when the victim died.

  In the victim’s mouth would be what was left of his private parts.

  Manny Snow liked to torture his victims in a variety of ways, until he grew bored with the game.

  Then he looked each man in the eye and asked him, “Are you ready to die?”

  Eventually, although he knew what was coming, each man would nod his head. For death was the only way to escape the torment.

  When each man said yes, Snow used the machete to sever his penis and testicles, then shoved them into his mouth. He was forced to chew on them while he bled to death.

  And while Snow watched, laughing hysterically.

  When Sloan learned that the boy he beat up and robbed was Manny Snow’s little brother, he knew his days were numbered. The only chance he had to survive was to get out of Austin. So he stole a bicycle, threw a bag on his back with a couple of changes of clothes in it, and rode west.

  He made it a couple of miles out of town when the chain broke.

  Then he walked.

  But only far enough to find a farmhouse with a horse grazing in the front pasture.

  It took him awhile to figure out how to get the horse bridled and the saddle cinched. The horse bit him once while he tried the get the bit into her mouth, but it was an accident. Sally was a very gentle and patient horse, but even she could tell he wasn’t a horse person.

  He didn’t get the saddle cinched tightly enough the first time and it shifted, dumping him in the dirt.

  On the second attempt he mounted up from the wrong side, causing Sally to roll her big brown horse eyes. She knew this was going to be an adventure.

  When he finally made it to Blanco Sloan was afoot again, and walking with a bad limp. He’d tell people his feet were blistered, but in reality his feet weren’t his problem. The blisters were on his ass, which was poorly equipped to ride ninety miles in a leather saddle.

  Cowboys call them “saddle sores,” and the unaccustomed backsides of greenhorns are highly susceptible to them. Especially greenhorns who don’t know how to get into a rhythm with the horse and therefore bounce awkwardly about the saddle.

  Sloan was afoot because not only did he not know how to ride, he didn’t know beans about horse care. Poor Sally came up lame a few miles outside of Blanco and refused to take another step.

  A man happened by who was a horseman and offered to buy her and nurse her back to health.

  “Once upon a time a horse with a bad leg was shot to put them out of their misery,” he told Sloan. “These days they’re too hard to come by. We try to heal ‘em when we can, and when we can’t we put them out to pasture in hopes they’ll breed. Only as a last resort do we put them down, and then we use them for meat.”

  “People eat horses?”

  “They didn’t used to. But these days, with beef getting harder and harder to come by, people are eating a lot of things they wouldn’t have a year ago.”

  Sloan pocketed two silver dollars for a horse that wasn’t even his. But even better than that, he made it out of Austin alive.

  He knew that his old prison buddy John Savage lived in the tiny town of Blanco, but he didn’t know where.

  Luckily, on the outskirts of town he happened across the naked man, a local eccentric who was no harm to anyone.

  But who didn’t like wearing clothes.

  The naked man’s name was Luke, but few people knew that. Nearly everyone in town knew him merely as the naked man. Most of the townspeople kept their kids away from the streets they knew he walked on, and he kept mostly to himself. For years the local police pretty much left him to his own devices, and only occasionally asked him to cover up. Usually when a little old lady pretended to be offended.

  Sloan encountered the naked man on a road on the eastern edge of Blanco.

  “Hey, partner. Looks like you forgot something important when you left the house this morning.”

  “Nope. Only thing I forgot was to comb my hair.”

  “How come you’re naked?”

  “Well, because that’s how God made me, sonny. If God didn’t mind me lookin’ like this, then I reckon nobody else should have a problem with it. Nobody outranks God, son. Nobody at all.”

  “Don’t it embarrass you?”

  “Not at all. It gives me a sense of freedom that few other people ever experience. The breeze keeps me cool, when others are sweating. And I save an awful lot of money on clothes.”

  “Good point, I guess.”

  “Try it sometime, young fella. If you dare, that is. Most people won’t. And they don’t know what they’re missing.”

  “But why?”

  “Because there ain’t no better feeling in the world, that’s why. It’s a better feeling than sex, a bigger rush than drugs, a better buzz than alcohol. It’s freedom, my friend, in its most basic form. It can’t be described any better than that, but once folks try it they hate clothes for the rest of their lives.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Say, how come you’re limping?”

  “Just walked in from Austin. I’m on my way to Alamogordo, New Mexico to find my kinfolk.”

  “That’s a hell of a long walk, sonny.”

  “Yep. I need to take a break. Rest up for a few days. Let the blisters on my feet heal.”

  “Well, if you’re gonna stop here in Blanco, the best place to rest up is Mrs. Montgomery’s boarding house. Keep right on up this road here. I don’t stay there, but she’s entertained me a few times, when there were no guests around to get freaked out. It’s a damn nice place, and she’ll take good care of you.”

  “Okay, thanks. Enjoy your… nakedness.”

  “My freedom, friend. My freedom. And don’t knock it until you try it. I’m telling you, it’s the best feeling in the world, once you get over the inclination to feel shy.”

  “One more question. Do you know where I can find a man by the name of John Savage?”

  The friendliness suddenly left the naked man’s eyes, replaced by a look of suspicion.

  “You got business with Savage?”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a snake in the grass, that’s why. As crooked as they come. The most hated man in the county. If you ain’t done business with him yet, you might want to think twice. If you’re already doing business with him, be wary. He’ll stab you in the back first chance he gets. There ain’t a lick of decency in the man.”

  “I was asked to give him a message from a man in Austin, that’s all. The man paid me a silver coin to deliver it.”

  “You can find him on the corner of
Main and Maple. His place is easy to spot. It’s the only three story house in town. Why the hell he needs three stories is beyond me. It’s just him. Not even a dog will live with him. You’d be wise to deliver your message and earn your coin, then steer clear of the man.”

  But Sloan didn’t steer clear of the man. He met with Savage and explained his predicament. Then he asked his old prison buddy if he had any work.

  “What kind of work? You ain’t no good to me if you’re still on the shit.”

  Work was street slang for crystal methamphetamine. Savage knew that, and he also knew that Sloan had been a junkie before he went to prison. And he’d heard that Sloan picked the habit up again after his parole.

  “Not that kind. A job. I need some money put aside, so if they come after me I can move on.”

  “Go get your room at the boarding house. I can make use of you, but not if we’re seen together. Come to see me here, at night, and only when the candle in the front window is lit. If you see me on the street, cross to the other side. If I step out of a store and see you on the sidewalk, look the other way.

  “And I’ll tell you up front, if you ever step foot in my bank I’ll cut you off and you’ll never get another dime from me.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing, yet. Just hang around town until I need you. Blend in. Get to know the locals. When the time is right, I’ll give you a job and it’ll pay damn well.”

  That was three weeks before. Sloan had done as instructed, being visible around town as he blended in and tried to become a member of the community.

  After he overheard the chatter at the five o’clock meeting, though, he saw fit to pay Savage a second visit.

  “Well damn, Sloan. I’m glad you brought me that information. That’s pretty damn interesting.”

  “Want me to take care of this guy Butch?”

  “No. I’ve got somebody else to take care of that. You’ve probably seen him at the boarding house. His name is Luna.”

  “I’ve seen him. I didn’t know he was your man.”

  “I intentionally didn’t tell him about you, nor you about him. It’s less complicated that way. Since Butch is getting ready to force my hand, we’ll have to move up our timetable a bit. When you get back to the boarding house, take Luna aside and tell him to come and see me. Then just keep on doing what you’re doing. After Butch is out of the way, I’ll give you another job.”

  The next day Savage opened the curtain in a seldom used window on the second floor of the bank. It was a signal to Jesse Luna that Savage was alone and he could enter.

  They had business to discuss.

  Chapter 8

  “We’ve got to move on the Butch Poston thing. He’s getting ready to go to the Texas Rangers.”

  Luna hadn’t taken three steps into the room. Hadn’t had a chance to get comfortable, or even to sit down.

  John Savage was never one to mince words, even in a calm state of mind. When he was freaked out or scared, even less so. And now he was freaked out and terrified.

  Luna found Savage’s state of mind rather funny.

  He chuckled.

  “Well, hello to you too. Mind if I sit down for a minute?”

  “Yes. Go ahead.”

  Savage poured them each a drink from a still well-stocked bar. Luna could easily tell it wasn’t Savage’s first drink of the evening.

  “How soon can you get it done?”

  “Next day or so. I would have already done it, but was waiting for the go-ahead from you. Now that I have it, things will move very quickly.”

  “I don’t want to know any of the details.”

  “Wasn’t going to give you any.”

  Savage studied him closely. He had a question he wanted to ask… needed to ask, yet he was afraid of the answer.

  “Our conversation the other night. About my fingerprints on that bottle of… whatever it was…”

  “Zarzapine.”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry. A man in my business needs an insurance policy, and that is mine.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning if you turn on me and rat me out to the law, I’ll have no problem turning the tables on you, and convincing them that you were the mastermind behind the whole thing. If I go to prison I’ll have company. But the difference is, I’ve done hard time before. I can handle it. You’ll be a fat toad surrounded by water moccasins, struggling every day to survive. And I’ll be there to help you run out of days.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I won’t betray you. I may not be as tough as you. But I’m not a stupid man.”

  “Very well. Your fingerprints on the Zarzapine mean something else as well. The price of the job has doubled. A rush job means more risk for me. More risk equals better compensation. You, being a banker and ‘not a stupid man,’ can certainly understand.”

  Savage was expecting such a move.

  “I understand. And I’ll pay you double if you can do the job before he leaves town.”

  “When’s he leaving?”

  “I’m not sure. Soon. Perhaps as soon as two or three days.”

  “Consider it done. Expect me to pay you a visit the night after they find his body. Have my money ready. That will be the last time you see me. I have business up north, in Lubbock. I don’t expect to come back this way again.”

  Luna stood up and started to leave, but remembered something.

  He walked over to the bar and refilled his glass with McCallum 7-Year scotch.

  Status was something Jesse Luna coveted greatly. He considered himself a better man than Savage in every way. And although he’d contracted to do a job for Savage, and Savage was technically Luna’s boss, Luna still felt a need to show Savage he was in charge.

  After filling his glass Luna walked out the door, taking the glass and the bottle with him.

  He said over his shoulder with a smirk, “See you soon, and thanks for the scotch.”

  Savage wondered whether he’d made a mistake in doing business with a loose cannon like Luna.

  But really, there weren’t a lot of options. Just finding a hitman was a risk unto itself. Police and the FBI were notorious for finding angry people with grudges and planting the concept of killing their enemies in their minds. And once the seeds were planted, the cops liked to set up sting operations to nab them for conspiracy to commit murder.

  With Luna, he knew he had the real deal. And Luna was good at his craft.

  And in any event, Luna wouldn’t be around for long. He’d soon leave town, and said he wouldn’t be back. Problem solved. He’d be rid of Butch, and Luna, and would only have Red to deal with.

  And he could handle Red.

  Chapter 9

  The following evening Sheila Winters walked down Main Street and noticed that the candles were still burning inside Butch Poston’s hardware store.

  She walked in, with the intent of giving Butch a hard time for working such long hours. A man of his advanced years, she’d have said, should be home asleep by now.

  But there would be no frivolity on this particular night.

  She found the body of Butch Poston crumpled on the floor just inside the door, a large pool of blood beneath the back of his head.

  And her screams brought everyone within earshot running.

  At that very moment, five miles away in a clearing deep within the forest, Red was picking the last bits of meat from a squirrel she’d trapped for her supper.

  She looked up at the stars and thought of her father. She missed him. She always did when she went to the woods to be alone. It was Butch who’d bestowed upon her a love of nature, and a love of solitude. He’d always been there for her, and she made a mental note to tell him how much she loved him for it when she got back to town.

  She was blissfully unaware that she’d never have that opportunity.

  As they wrapped Butch’s body in a blanket and carried him home for burial, John Savage milled about with several other bystanders.
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br />   Someone asked the town doctor, Doctor Munoz, “What do you think he died of, Doc?”

  Munoz responded rather quickly, “Massive heart attack. The head wound was incidental to death and didn’t contribute to it. He had a heart attack and hit his head upon the floor when he fell.”

  The doctor knew better. The head wound came first. It wouldn’t have bled near as much if the heart had stopped beating. It would have slowed to a trickle and stopped quickly.

  Everybody in town knew that Doctor Munoz was in John Savage’s pocket. Munoz was a gambler. Poker was his game of preference, although he was lousy at it. And the more he played, the worse he got.

  What made it worse was that he was an alcoholic too. He was a regular invitee to back yard poker games all over Blanco. Not because he was a popular man, necessarily. But because he was an easy mark when drinking. His money flowed fluidly from his hands to his friends’.

  Money he had to borrow from John Savage’s bank because his tiny practice wasn’t enough to cover his debts.

  The truth was, Doctor Munoz knew precisely what happened, and who was responsible. And he planned to use that knowledge to his advantage.

  The first chance he got to meet with John Savage in private, he’d tell the portly banker that they were now even. The doctor would keep his mouth shut, only if Savage would agree to wipe his gambling debts clean.

  Chapter 10

  Red rode back into town a few days later, refreshed and rejuvenated. She felt like a new woman. It was amazing what a few days away from other people could do for her soul.

  As she and Bonnie walked slowly down Main Street, though, she got a sense of dread.

  People she saw, people she’d known for years, avoided her gaze as she looked toward them. One woman she waved at began to cry.

  She rode Bonnie up to the hardware store and dismounted.

  She was puzzled. It was a warmer than average afternoon. The door to the store should have been propped open, its windows raised.

  Instead, the door was locked. The window blinds were drawn.

  “Red! Red!”

  Red turned to see her lifelong friend, Lilly Reedy, running down the sidewalk toward her.