Grumbling under his breath, MT checked his watch and stared at Damon. After a drawn own minute, he spoke, his voice monotone. “I can’t leave. You need to get down there. It will have to be without pay, but I won’t count this against hiring you guys again. Ryland can keep working. Get after my sister.”
A shout from up the driveway drew their attention, cutting into the urgency MT’s tone and words shot through Damon.
“Help! I need help. My mom. Something’s wrong with her.” An older Salish man, gray streaking through his tresses, hobbled towards them. He pushed a cane on the drive ahead of him as if it was a third leg. “Help.” He motioned towards the house, gasping for breath.
MT glanced at him and then back at Damon. He pushed at Damon’s shoulder, resigned. “Go get my sister. Don’t take no for an answer. Tell her I’m demanding it. Or I’m telling Dad. I’ll take care of Mrs. Metcalf.”
Concern between the two women tore at Damon. But it didn’t take more prodding from MT to reclaim his truck and start the trip to Wyoming.
Rachiah wasn’t going to be happy. But she’d be safe and Damon had to believe that was more important.
Wasn’t it?
Chapter 11
Rachiah
Rachiah’s terrific mood disappeared when she hung up with Damon.
She left Ratchet’s house quietly, closing the door softly behind her. The night before she hadn’t grabbed all of her things from the car, but when she got back from work she would be sure to do so.
Ratchet’s schedule ran a couple hours later than hers did. She planned on getting some things and cooking dinner for him and her.
All day at work she struggled to shake off the bad sensation Damon’s phone call had left her with. Why couldn’t he just be happy for her? He was upset she wasn’t coming home. So was she. But not enough to cancel her plans.
She didn’t have anything to worry about. Ratchet had been very honest with her the night before. He hadn’t had a chance to get to know her. Her mom had kept him away from Rachiah. That’s all there was to it. She’d make sure to ask him why he continued to move from town to town. The reason couldn’t be that bad.
After work she stopped at the small grocery store on the corner, glancing at Cook’s Automotive anytime it was within view.
He had left the front door unlocked for her, so when she arrived she walked right in. Her backpack full of clothes and toiletries hung heavily from her shoulder.
While the potatoes boiled on the stove, Rachiah climbed in the shower. His bathroom was small and obviously owned by a man with shaving cream and deodorant littering the mini counter space.
Ratchet had mentioned the night before his affinity for staying single. He said he had had his heart hurt too many times to fully commit anymore.
Rachiah understood. Especially if it was her mother who had done the hurting. She was starting to feel like her whole childhood had been a lie.
She scrubbed her hair, rinsing the soap and shampoo from her body. She was so excited to have dinner that night. She wanted to ask him about all the places he’d been. From her search of the last couple years and especially the last few months his travels had taken him around a lot of places. She knew because she’d followed his path.
Maybe he’d want to take her to meet his parents or siblings. She could have more aunts and uncles and cousins. There was so much to be learned about him.
She climbed out, drying off with the rough towel hanging from the bar. It was probably about time for her to pull out the potatoes and put the chicken on. She would finish brushing her hair and braiding it and getting dressed before going out.
With her hair plated and her clean clothes in place, she opened the door, humming softly.
And stopped.
Ratchet didn’t even look up as he emptied the items from her backpack onto the couch. He dug through her stuff in front of her, indifferent to her presence.
“What are you doing?” Rachiah dug her fingers into the small pile of dirty clothes in her hands. Her smile dimmed with confusion and her eyebrows knit together.
He shoved his hands on his hips. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. “Where’s the money? I know you have it. You told that Damon guy this morning you didn’t need it and you weren’t gonna use it.” He bent and continued rummaging through her things.
Her smile dripped from her face. She crossed her arms tightly around the clothes in her arms. “I don’t...”
But she knew. He was closer than he knew. Any second he’d put his hands on the envelope.
Any second she would have to tell Damon he was right.
Any second and she’d have to sew her heart back together.
His movements became more frantic as he tossed her items around the couch and floor. And then he stilled. He slowly lifted the envelope from the side pocket, staring at it, and then shifted his gaze to her.
Coming closer, he glared, his eyes blazing with anger. “I thought you didn’t know?” When he got within arms’ reach he pulled back his hand and backhanded her, knocking her to the side.
She scrambled up from the wooden armrest of the futon, grabbing her smarting cheek. He’d hit her hard. She looked at him, as if seeing him for what Damon had warned her about. Pain from something besides being hit choked her.
He raised his hand again, this time his fingers clenched into a fist.
Pounding on the door pulled his attention from her. He looked back at Rachiah, amusement and bitterness dissipating his former charm.
Was she going to be saved? Maybe she could get out of there still. Water splashed on the stove, sizzling as it landed on the hot burner. The potatoes would burn. Why did she care? She wanted to get out of there.
Rachiah couldn’t breathe. How had she gotten in that position? Was she so desperate for attention? Was she so desperate to find her real dad?
If Ratchet was her real dad, she didn’t want to know him. Maybe he was redeemable or maybe it was an accident because he was stoned.
“Yeah.” Ratchet called out to the newcomers and pushed Rachiah to the couch. “Don’t move.” His rough tone drew her hackles up.
She didn’t deserve anything he was doing. Stoned or not.
Without waiting for Ratchet to open the door, two men ducked inside, laughing. Pockmarked skin and silver streaked hair, the first man glanced at Rachiah and then at Ratchet. “When did you go red?”
“Injuns are only good for one thing, Ratchet.” The second man, who was a bit taller than the first, had stringy red hair hanging past his weak jaw and almost nonexistent chin.
Ratchet jerked his thumb toward Rachiah over his shoulder. “Let’s get our business over with, and then you both do whatever you want with the redskin trash. Maybe I’ll get a better deal, yeah?”
“But I’m your daughter.” Rachiah couldn’t believe what was happening. Redskin. Trash. And he was giving her to those gross men. He couldn’t do that. He had invited her into his home, because he was concerned about her.
He barely glanced at her as he shrugged. “You’re nothing to me but a payday.” He pointed towards the back bedroom and smirked. “Get back there and get your clothes off. I need to get to bed early so I can get into work tomorrow. I’ll send the men in when they’re ready.”
She resisted, until the look of irritation on his face turned to fury. She didn’t want to push him any further than she already had. And the two men lurking at the peripheral edge of the living room seemed to be waiting for a signal to pounce.
Rachiah scuttled into the back room, her heart pounding, dread filling her.
What had she gotten herself into? Was this one of those times when the curiosity really had killed the cat?
Chapter 12
Damon
Rachiah’s voicemail answered again. Damon slammed his hand on the steering wheel. She wasn’t answering her phone. The line wasn’t even ringing. Direct to voicemail. He had sent more texts than he was sure he was supposed to send on his plan.
Worry kep
t his foot heavy on the gas pedal. After the fifteenth or sixteenth phone call, he finally gave in and called MT.
“Damon, talk to me. What’s going on with my sister?” His curt tone made it obvious they weren’t friends. Damon didn’t need it pointed out. MT had already made it clear he did not approve of Rachiah and Damon dating.
“I can’t get a hold of her. I’m worried something happened.” The sun would set soon, and Damon should be arriving in North Fork in a few hours.
“How far away are you?” He mumbled something to the side.
“Only a few hours.” Damon needed someone else to worry with. “How is Mrs. Metcalf?”
“She had a stroke. The reservation is pretty far away from the hospital. She’s touch and go right now.” MT sighed. “I need to go. Keep me posted.”
“Yeah, man.” Damon hung up. How long could he push the speed limit by twenty like he was?
He hoped to get down to North Fork and find Rachiah laughing pleasantly with her father, have her surprised to see him and introduce him.
One thing Damon had learned over his life - what you hoped for and what you got were two different things.
Chapter 13
Rachiah
Rachiah wasn’t scared.
No, she was mad.
She clenched her fingers tight to her palms, the nails biting her soft flesh. She clenched her jaw as she made her way back to the bedroom.
There were three windows in his bedroom.
“Aren’t you worried she’s going to leave?” The greasy redhead laughed as he adjusted around the living room to claim a seat.
“Nah, she doesn’t have any shoes on and I have all of her stuff. She’s not going anywhere.” From the movement of his voice, Ratchet had claimed a seat on the couch again.
Being stoned lost him his daughter. Too bad she was the only one that cared.
Rachiah slammed the bedroom door shut. The men’s laughter carried through the doorway. She reached for her phone in her back pocket. She leaned her head back against the door, sighing. Thank heaven. She thought for a second maybe she had left it on the bathroom counter.
She wouldn’t be waiting for her stuff. Nothing in there was worth it. Her car keys were in the bag, too. She couldn’t get to those. So she really did have to decide on leaving everything or taking a chance they may or may not pass out before doing whatever it was he promised them they could do.
She wasn’t stupid. Her stuff was just stuff.
Ratchet wasn’t her dad. She was the stupid one who’d left her dad back at home with her mom.
The sun would set soon, the light already fading and casting long shadows outside.
The men’s voices didn’t lower. Every minute that passed their voices grew louder and louder.
Rachiah wasn’t waiting for anything. She moved over and slid open the window. Every creak made her wince. She glanced over the shoulder and watched for a sign they were coming as she finished raising the window.
The drop to the ground wasn’t long. Ratchet was right. She didn’t have any shoes on. The cold air brought a tingle to the raw spot on her cheek from his hand, enforcing her determination to get away.
Sliding from the window, she grimaced as her feet touched damp cold leaves. She had to get out of there, then she would call someone. Who? Who would she call?
Where was she going to go? She didn’t have anyone in North Fork.
She desperately wanted her car. She wanted to go home. Enough with the whole searching for who she thought she was. Enough with the lost girl feelings. Enough. She just wanted to be home. In Clearwater County, nobody made her feel like she wasn’t enough. Nobody lied to her like she was a piece of trash.
Except herself.
She crossed her arms over her stomach and watched the ground where she stepped. She got on the sidewalk and took two turns to the left, then two more to the right, until the diner was in view.
The only place she had any familiarity with. Tom would help her.
She slowed her pace, glancing around for cars. She had trusted Ratchet, and look where that got her.
She trusted Tom but she didn’t know where he lived. Judging from the darkness of the diner, business hadn’t been busy enough that night to stay open past four-thirty or five. There went her option to get inside and find help.
Who else did she trust? No one else was open. There were only three stores in town. And the later hour in the evening didn’t make for good chances anyone would really be open. Maybe the store at the other end of the street would be good.
She looked both ways before crossing the street to get closer to the diner.
At the curb she slid to the side, slicing the side of her foot. She cried out, falling to the side and grinding her palm onto the gravel on the curb. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead and neck, chilling abruptly in the cool evening air.
“Now what?” She needed help. She slapped the palm of her hand over the three-inch scrape which bled freely. She pulled out her phone, glancing up and down the empty street.
Would Ratchet come for her? Would he try to find her?
The battery bar on her phone showed less than ten percent. She grunted as she struggled to get off the ground. Why didn’t she ever plug in her phone?
She had to get off the street before she did anything else. How far would she be able to go?
She brushed the gravel from her palm and tucked her phone back into her pocket. The chill in the air bit at the edges of her toes.
Her foot burned. The pain was sharper than what hurt her palm. She could hobble to the back, hide somewhere in the diner parking lot and wait, but for what? What was she waiting for?
She made her way across the dirt parking lot, trying to ignore the realistic chance dirt was getting into her new cut. Hopefully the fresh bleeding rinsed out the grains of dirt.
She slumped against the slats of the wooden fence in the rear. Prickly slivers of the fence scratched at her shirt, poking through the material to her skin. She slid down to the ground, trying not to cry.
Pulling out her phone again, she pushed the number nine and held it a little too long. She wanted nine-one-one. In the silence she could hear the phone ringing.
Had she called nine-one-one?
She lifted the phone to her ear as it rang.
Damon answered. “Rachiah? I’ve been trying to call you. What’s going on? Where are you? Are you okay?”
His voice calmed her, and yet brought into stark focus just exactly what she’d gotten into.
“You were right.” Her voice broke on a sob. “I’m not okay. I’m in North Fork. Hiding behind the Café. Ratchet tried kidnapping me. He wanted to trade me for something. I think he was doing drugs. I don’t know what to do. I don’t even have shoes.” Don’t lose it, Rachiah don’t lose it. You can do this. She dragged in a heaving breath to reclaim some calm.
“Don’t go anywhere, stay hidden. I’ll be there in a couple hours. I’m already coming for you. Can you call the police?” He was coming for her. He had already left. Those words filled her with comfort she desperately needed.
“I can try. I’m tired. I cut my foot coming over here. It’s so cold. My phone battery is dying. I’ll try.” Her phone beeped, beeped, and then went dead. Maybe she had misread the bar. Maybe it was at one percent or two.
Whatever the case, her phone wasn’t on anymore and the comfort of Damon’s voice had disappeared with the call.
She looked around the parking lot. He said keep hidden. That was difficult to do in an empty parking lot with her back against the fence. Down about six slats, there was a break in the fence. She could fit through it, and still be able to see if anyone came through.
She didn’t know what was on the other side, but waiting for Ratchet and his friends to come wasn’t an option.
She ducked under the split in the fence. On the other side she huddled against the fence with her foot resting in the grass. A mass of trees started at the edge of the forest. She forgot they were o
n the outskirts of town. North Fork’s main businesses claimed the north part of Main Street and faded into residential area.
She tried ignoring the dark that got deeper the further east she looked. Resting her cheek on her knee, she kept her face turned toward the hole in the fence to avoid the reality of the woods.
How could she be half of Ratchet? What had she done? She wasn’t worth anything. She didn’t deserve her family or her stepdad. Her real dad couldn’t care enough about her. Didn’t that say something about her? Didn’t that show how much she wasn’t worth?
She didn’t even wipe at the hot tears burning down her cheeks. She was blind and stupid. What kind of games was she playing? She didn’t even know herself enough to know she wasn’t worth anything.
The self-hatred grew, consuming her, went from hatred and pity to loathing.
Why would Damon be coming for her?
Didn’t he know she wasn’t worth anything?
Chapter 14
Damon
Rachiah had cut him off which meant her battery probably had died. She was all alone. With one hand on the steering wheel and only half his gaze on the road, Damon dialed nine-one-one.
He reported the men in North Fork. He didn’t know their address, which made things harder for the nine-one-one operator, but he didn’t care.
If he could keep them busy with the law, maybe he could save Rachiah.
Knowing where Rachiah was, he had to call MT and let him know. He connected with the voicemail. “Hey, MT. I spoke with Rachiah. I’m almost there. I’ll pick her up. Sounds like she’s having some pretty serious trouble with her biological father. I’ll fill you in later. She’s safe and I’m getting her. Thanks.”
The next couple hours didn’t go nearly fast enough. Even though he pushed twenty miles per hour over the speed limit.
Pulling up to the diner in the pitch black of night disoriented Damon. The beams of his truck’s headlight bobbed over the gravel and dirt. Coming to rest on a fence opposite the entrance, the truck shifted easily into park.
Damon slid from the idling vehicle and searched the parking lot. Where was she? Why wasn’t she there? Could he be too late? A dumpster box, large and green, mocked him from the side of the restaurant but no one was behind it.
Forgotten Trails Page 8
