A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1)

by Brian Gore

  Something struck Linus at that moment, like the proverbial thunderbolt.

  "Ben?" he asked; "Does this" he raised the bank's cash ticket and shook it; "have anything to do with those Jamaican fellas, they found dead over to Ennis?"

  Ben stopped and slowly turned back toward his friend and Banker. "Why would you ask that Linus?" he asked seriously.

  "I don't know Ben. Something about the way you said. "Did a job" and "Took out the trash"... and then... three dead drug dealers... that bag of money... I ... "

  "Jesus Linus! You had me goin' for a minute. But, truth is, you're right! I have to admit it! You're right! Needin' money bad, I sobered up, shaved, looked around for an opportunity and found a gang of drug shovers to track from Chicago to Ennis Montana; where I, with a bad attitude and a 30-30, outnumbered, what? three to one? more? figuring some got away, ambushed 'em so I could rob 'em and pay my debt to the Bank! Damn Linus! You've been workin' too hard Buddy! You couldn't sell that story to Steven Spielberg!" Ben laughed. "You crack me up Linus, you surely do!" Then, still laughing, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Linus standing behind his desk with his mouth hanging open.

  What Linus couldn't see was the look on Ben's face when he stepped through the front door walking to his truck sitting at the curb. He was spooked. He really hadn't worried much about himself being connected to some drug runners out of Chicago. Montana was a big place.

  It's a big place alright, but the whole state had fewer people then the City of Chicago. Things just had a way of standing out more out here. Especially, if they were out of place. It worried him. It occurred to him that those men had found him. Who had they spoken to? How had they got his name?

  "Damn! Son-of-a-bitch!" he cursed.

  The euphoria he'd walked into the bank with, after the night he'd had, evaporated in a flood of what ifs. What if one of those people who'd inadvertently given up his name put it together and called the state police? What if they asked at a gas station if they knew how to get to the Jensen ranch?

  "Aw shit!" he cursed as he drove out of Columbus, pounding on the steering wheel.

  He drove a few miles cussing before he finally told himself; "Ok dumb ass, get a grip. What do they have? Somebody asked about you. Somebody was wondering where you lived, and now those somebody's are dead. But, what can they HAVE on You? Nothing!"

  "You policed up your brass. You policed the area. You left no evidence they can tie you to that place with. Hell, you even took the battery out of your phone till you were back out of that area and a few hundred miles away. You left nothing but tracks. You didn't even buy fuel within a hundred miles of the place. And what you did buy, you paid cash for. No one saw you in the same county as those fools. No one. Well, except for Amanda. Relax. You've left no evidence."

  As he said that last, he looked down at his boots; "Tracks" he thought.

  He pulled the truck into McGivern's Mercantile in Butte, jumped out and walked quickly inside. Thirty minutes later, wearing a brand spankin' new pair of high top boots, he walked out, carrying his old boots in his hands.

  Ben climbed in the truck, drug a shoeing rasp from under the seat and, sitting on the seat of the truck, worked those old boots over for ten minutes, destroying the soles. Then, he started the truck, drove two blocks down the street and around the rear of the Safeway store, and dumped one of the boots in the dumpster.

  The second boot rode on the seat beside him to a bridge over the Missouri River on I-15, about 40 miles north of Helena, where the boot sailed out the window, into the big river below, bound for the Gulf of Mexico.

  Rolling on to Great Falls he pulled in to the parking lot of an Ace Hardware, went inside and bought a hacksaw and a half dozen fresh blades.

  Just past Choteau, on the way back to the cabins, he pulled off the gravel into a wide pullout. Sawing feverishly for most of 45 minutes; and ruining three of the saw blades in the process, he cut that good old 30-30 he'd pulled out from behind the seat into a half dozen pieces. These he scattered in creeks, ponds and rivers he crossed along his path as he returned to the cabins and Amanda.

  Feeling a bit more secure, now that any connection, beyond whoever the Jamaicans had talked to, was destroyed, he drove the few remaining miles to the Lodge and was just turning up the driveway to the Lodge when his phone rang.

  He didn't recognize the number on the Caller ID, but unsure of anything, he cautiously answered. "Hello?"

  "Is this Ben Jensen?" an, older sounding, man's voice demanded.

  "Yeah, who am I speakin' to?" Ben replied.

  "Hello Ben, Ellis Cantrel here."

  Ben relaxed and released the breath he realized he was holding.

  "Hello Ellis. Haven't talked to you in quite a spell."

  "No sir, you haven't" Ellis told him. "But I had an interesting conversation about you the other day."

  Something in the way he spoke put Ben right back on alert. "Yeah? What was that Ellis?"

  "Well sir, four big black fellas, from somewhere down in the car-uh-beuhn," he started; "at least that's what they sounded like to me, had that funny, sing songy kind of accent, you know? They come in here, mid afternoon, wondering where your ranch was. Said they were lookin' for an outfitter, and heard you was one."

  "Really, you tell 'em how to find me Ellis? I... uh ... never seen 'em."

  "You bet Ben, told 'em how to drive right up to your front door. Didn't really have a reason not to, though, they didn't look or sound like hunters to me."

  "Well, Ellis, if they show up, I'll talk to 'em" Ben lied.

  "Well sir," Ellis went on; "Now that right there is likely gonna be a problem for you."

  "How's that Ellis?" Ben asked, getting ever more nervous.

  "Guess you haven't heard any news Ben?"

  "About what?" Ben's heart was starting to pound in his chest so hard he was afraid Ellis could hear it over the phone.

  "Well Ben, it seems three, big black fellas, from one of them car-uh-beuhn islands, went an' got themselves shot dead, over to Ennis! Whoever done the deed, done it with a 30-30."

  "Really? Damn bad luck for them Ellis." His chest was thumping like a drum and the blood was roaring in his ears so loud, it was making it hard to hear the phone. "But what's that got to do with me Ellis?" Ben asked, scared his voice was shaking, and hunting his mind for a way, any way, to talk himself out of this.

  "Oh," Ellis hesitated. "Nothing, nothing at all." Ellis chuckled. "Just thought you should know Ben."

  "Well, thanks for calling Ellis. Thanks a lot."

  "Ben?"

  "Yeah Ellis?"

  "You still carry that Ol' 30-30 of your Dad's?"

  "Nah Ellis, sold that Ol' thing for beer money, two, three years ago." Ben lied yet again. "Damn thing couldn't hit the ground anyway."

  "You bet Ben. Your Ol' Dad used to have to club all those deer he killed with that rifle over the years. Never could hit 'em with a bullet." Ellis said, sarcastically. "Well, whoever done it needs to take good care. There's still one of that four still walking."

  "Thanks again Ellis, you're a good neighbor." Ben replied.

  "Don't pay to be nothin' else Ben, just don't pay." and the line went dead.

  Ben had pulled up to the Lodge before the call ended, and sat there for a few moments collecting his thoughts.

  That Old man was warning him he knew. Right at that moment he was glad he still lived in a place where you could know that your neighbors had your back. That they watched out for each other, in a way he thought, you wouldn't find anywhere else in the country.

  He was still worried though. Inside him festered the feeling gnawing away at his guts, that those men had talked to more than just Ellis Cantrel. That they'd talked to people who weren't his neighbors. People who would talk. He knew he'd better get his story straight, and tell it the right way, when the police came asking questions. And come they would, of that, he was sure.

  The other thing, he knew for sure, was that he'd need to keep some distance from
Amanda. When the police found him, he didn't want anything leading them to Amanda. He needed to make sure she was kept out of it.

  Chapter 27

  When she heard the sound of the truck coming up the drive, late in the afternoon, almost evening, she stepped over to look out the window. She and Timmy had just returned to the Lodge from a walk around the perimeter of the big meadow that lay, mostly, to the east of the buildings.

  She watched as Ben drove up, and could see him talking on his cell. It made her a little nervous when he put the phone down and then just sat in the truck with his chin on his chest.

  Finally, he pushed the door open and slowly climbed out. She pulled the Lodge door open and stepped out onto the porch, Timmy close behind.

  "Hi Ben. You ok? You... look kind of worried?"

  Ben blew out a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. Making a wide eyed face he stepped up on the porch. "Hey Timmy! I got you this ball in town" he tossed him a red rubber ball he'd picked up when he bought the hacksaw in Great Falls.

  "If you take it around the side of the Lodge here, around there," Ben pointed; "You can throw it against the wall and try to catch it when it bounces back. No windows on that side so you've got no worries!"

  Timmy giggled and ran off around the corner to try the new game.

  Amanda looked at him forever amazed. "That was so kind of you Ben! You didn't have to do that!"

  "Yeah, well, he's a good kid Amanda. He deserves some consideration now and again." he smiled.

  "So," she asked; "What's going on. Did something else happen? Did you get to the Bank ok?"

  "Happening? Yeah, you could say that." Ben spent the next few minutes filling her in on all that had happened, and all he'd spoken with... well... except for Emily. He saw nothing helpful for anyone in revealing that little bit of news. Hell, it still had his head spinning.

  "Oh God Ben. I'm so sorry. I never wanted this. I only wanted Timmy and I to have a chance. A second chance. I've made such a mess of things." she put her face into her hands and started crying.

  "Hey, stop." Ben pleaded. "It's not as bad as it might sound, really. We'll work all this out. It's just gonna take some more time."

  "Work it out? How Ben? What are you going to do when they arrest you for... for... Murder?" she cried, tears streaking her face. "What am I going to do?"

  "Listen," he commanded, gripping the woman by her shoulders and shaking her softly. "They aren't going to arrest anyone for any of that. I'm sure they'll come around eventually to ask me some questions. But, that's all they can do. They can have their suspicions, but, they've got no evidence. They've got nothing. They can't even put me and those fools in the same place at the same time. Well, not after the campground anyway." he smiled at her, still holding her shoulders. "and they were alive when they left there! Some doctor can likely attest to that!" and he laughed.

  "They'll snoop around, but they won't find anything. I wiped away all the tracks that could lead to me. I promise!" Ben pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "I promised you girl. I'd get you and your boy through this. I intend to keep that promise."

  Amanda responded by wrapping her arms around him and hugging back. "Thank you Ben. Thank you so much. They'd already have us if it hadn't have been for you." She looked up at him and without warning, kissed him again... and that electric wire got plugged in and went to arcing again.

  ... and Ben's head went back to spinning. He kissed her back, fanning that electric spark into an open flame. But something shook him inside, rattled him, and forced him to; at the same instant his hands started to reach for her... pull back. He took her shoulders again and held her away from him.

  His breath was coming fast and his heart was hammering one more time, though this time not out of fear.

  "Sorry Amanda, I shouldn't have done that." he apologized.

  "You? I kissed you Ben." She smiled. "You have nothing to apologize for."

  "Yeah I do. You're... well... your situation is tough. You're scared and vulnerable just now. It's not right that I take advantage of that. You don't need that." He released her shoulders and stepped back.

  The sound of a ball hitting the wall, and a small boy giggling, came to them from around the end of the Lodge.

  Amanda stepped up to where Ben had backed off, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Ben, you've been nothing but a gentleman. Relax. You've done nothing wrong. If anything, maybe I'm taking advantage of you!" she quipped. "We're all adults here so, maybe all I want right now is a man I can trust to be good to me... It's ok, really." Holding his shoulders she pulled herself up to give him another, quick, soft kiss. "Are we good?"

  What could he say? "Yes Ma'am. We're good."

  Timmy came running around the corner; "I caught it! I caught it! I threw it and bounced it up in the air and I caught it!" he giggled.

  Both Ben and Amanda turned, self consciously away from each other as the giggling little boy ran up to them. He grabbed Amanda's hand and started pulling her toward the end of the Lodge. "Come see Momma come see! I caught it!" he laughed again. "You too Ben! Come see!"

  They all laughed and teased as little Timmy tossed his ball at the wall, try after try. Amanda and Ben cheered mightily, every time he succeeded in catching the rebound. Finally, as the sun set and darkness advanced across the meadow Amanda called an end to the game and they all walked inside to have supper.

  The laughter and ribbing continued on through the meal. When they'd finished, and the plates had been cleared, Amanda took Timmy in for a bath and put him to bed. Ben sat on a leather couch in the Great Room of the small Lodge, sipping a beer from a six pack he'd picked up on his way back, and weighing his options.

  When she'd put Timmy to bed Amanda walked back out into the living room. "You mind if I have one of those?" she asked, pointing at Ben's LandShark.

  "Help yourself! I can afford it now. I just came into a bunch of money!" Ben kidded.

  When she'd gotten her bottle out of the refrigerator and returned to the Great Room, she stopped in front of the couch and asked; "You mind?"

  Ben's thoughts had already drifted off again and he looked up not understanding; "Mind? What?"

  "You're not going senile on me are you old timer?" she teased him. "The couch" she pointed; "You mind if I sit down?"

  "Oh!... No..." Ben sat up straight. "No. That's... good... fine... sit! blahhhhh! I can't even talk any more!" He bawled.

  "Ha ha! Don't worry about it" she advised; "I'm well known for having that affect on men!" As she sat down, she put her free hand on his leg and gave it a squeeze.

  Ben choked and almost spewed a mouthful of his beer across the room. "If she only knew" he thought.

  "Relax! Damn Ben, it was a joke, but, it wasn't that funny."

  "Yeah well, a lot of you girls seem to be unaware of your effect on men... or... maybe you are!" he accused teasingly.

  "We'll never tell" she winked at him, laughing as she took a sip from her beer.

  They sat quiet for a time, just looking out the big window on the front of the Lodge, at the silhouette of the moonlit mountains across the valley.

  It was Amanda who broke the silence. "So... Ben... What do I do now. Where do we go from here? I mean, it's nice here and all. I love how peaceful it is here, and I feel safe, but, I can't stay here forever... What's the plan?"

  Ben took on Amanda's more serious tone. "Been sitting here thinkin' that same thing. Thought on it all the way driving back up here from Columbus, but I'm pretty sure my answer is not gonna please you much."

  "What? What are you thinking? I know we have to do... something... I'm listening." she replied.

  "Here's how I think Amanda. Sitting and waiting is a poor defense. It gives all the power and advantage to the hunter. You sit too long you start getting careless, antsy. You make mistakes, and bottom line, you're a sitting duck. If somebody is looking for you, and you give him enough time, eventually, he'll find you. No. Just like an army, the best defense is an aggressive a
nd violent... offense. "

  "So, how do we go on the offense?" Amanda asked.

  "We don't. I do. Your only job girl, is to keep that boy safe." Ben told her.

  "Ok. I already told you I'm not much of a warrior. If I accept that, how do you, go on the offense?"

  "Chicago." Ben answered in one word.

  "What? What about Chicago?" Amanda questioned.

  "The source of this, difficulty, is in Chicago." He answered. "The only solution is for me to go to Chicago, and deal with the problem at the source."

  "Go to Chicago?" Amanda took a drink from her beer, stood up and walked over to the window. She looked out for a long time, saying nothing.

  Ben sat on the couch, looking at her, wondering what she was thinking.

  Amanda turned her beer up and swallowed down its last. Without saying anything she turned and walked back to the couch, setting the empty bottle on the heavy log coffee table in front of it.

  She stepped over and stood between Ben's feet and looked down at him. "If I heard any other man say such a thing I'd think it nothing but bar talk. A lot of boast and bull shit. You? I've learned to take you, at your word, and I'm pretty sure I can't talk you out of it. It scares me. Terrifies me. Do you think, going to Chicago, after him, when you're sure they're already looking at you for the shooting of his boys at Ennis, is a smart thing?"

  Ben looked up at the woman looking down at him, and his heart skipped. He held his tongue for a moment, to be sure of his words.