A Good Samaritan

by Jesse Jacobson

  “Everything Rainhorse said was true,” Al Wasabi confessed to Aretas. “I sent your father to kill Rainhorse and warned him just before the attack was to occur.”

  Aretas tried to respond but no words came out of his mouth. Life was draining from him quickly now. The man was mere seconds away from death.

  “Your father was weak. He was a failure . . . just like you,” Al Wasabi continued.

  Aretas drew his last breath. Al Wasabi turned toward Rainhorse, aiming his pistol at the former assassin’s forehead. He sneered at the former Ranger.

  “This is for my son,” Al Wasabi said, cocking his revolver.

  Rainhorse heard a shot and winced thinking he’d been shot again, but it was Al Wasabi who was bleeding from the head. He saw the Yemeni crime boss slump to the ground, dead.

  He looked up to see Hank Rattling Thunder, holstering his weapon, and now approaching him, clapping.

  “Bravo, Rainhorse, bravo,” HRT cheered. “You almost did it.”

  Fifteen of HRT’s men approached Rainhorse in a circle, all bearing semi-automatic weapons at him. Rainhorse looked at Al Wasabi, lying dead and bleeding at his feet. He looked back at HRT with contempt.

  “What?” HRT began, grinning. “You didn’t think I was going to let anyone but me kill you, now did you?”

  “I suppose not,” Rainhorse replied, beginning to regain his breath. “I’m just wondering what you will do about your dilemma.”

  The smiled disappeared from HRT’s face, “What dilemma?”

  “Have you talked to Rose lately?”

  “Rose is fine,” Rattling Thunder snapped back. “I spoke with her this afternoon.”

  Rainhorse nodded, “Ah, yes, that was before I captured her at six o’clock.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I? Six o’clock? She was meeting Chapa at the Plentywood Mall. Any of this ring a bell?”

  Hank Rattling Thunder studied Rainhorse’s face. He pulled his cell phone and made a call.

  “Hello?” came a female voice.

  “Rose?”

  “No, this is not Rose,” came the reply.

  “Who is this?” HRT demanded to know. “Put Rose on.”

  “Hold on, I’ll put her on speaker. She can’t hold the phone. She’s a little tied up right now, you understand.”

  “Father?” Rose said into the speakerphone. “Father, is that you?”

  “Rose? Are you alright?” HRT asked nervously.

  “Yes, I’m fine. Rainhorse ambushed me at the Plentywood Mall. I’m being held by the Vanderbilt girl and some old Cheyenne bitch I’ve never seen before.”

  “Listen to me, whoever it is holding my daughter!” Rattling Thunder bellowed. “If you harm one hair on her head, I will kill you. I will kill you all.”

  The phone line went dead.

  “Goddammit!” screamed HRT, throwing the phone on the ground.

  “Oops,” Rainhorse taunted.

  “I will kill you now,” HRT hissed.

  “No, you won’t,” Rainhorse replied, “because there is only one thing in life you care for more than money, and that’s Rose Rattling Thunder.”

  “What do you propose we do to solve our little issue,” Rattling Thunder wondered.

  “What time is it?” he asked.

  “A few minutes after nine,” HRT replied. “Why?”

  Rainhorse looked to the sky, “As it turns out, we won’t have to make a decision.”

  “What do you mean?” HRT replied.

  “Listen,” Rainhorse said.

  HRT paused, “I hear nothing.”

  “Hang on,” Rainhorse urged. “Wait for it.”

  In the distance he could hear helicopter blades purring.

  Rattling Thunder sighed, “FBI?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “They won’t take me alive,” he declared.

  “Suits me,” Rainhorse snapped back.

  “In that case . . .” HRT began, “I know you won’t murder my daughter in cold blood with the FBI on top of us.”

  Rattling Thunder shot Rainhorse near the center of his chest. The former assassin gasped and fell backward, pressing on the bullet wound with both hands. He choked as blood began filling his lungs.

  Rainhorse struggled to remain conscious but was fading quickly. He’d been hurt in the past, shot more times than he could remember, but never like this. He could feel the life draining from his body. He could hear his own heartbeat fading, weakening. He was cold.

  On his back he gazed at the night sky one last time. As a young Cheyenne his mother taught him the soul would go on a journey to the southwest when he died. Eventually, the soul would arrive at a village where it would be welcomed by his ancestors.

  He knew Christians believed the soul would ascend to heaven. He wondered if either of the beliefs were true.

  The helicopter blades grew louder, drowning out the sound of his own heartbeat, but he knew it would beat its last at any second.

  He thought about Neha. He thought about Lindsay. He thought about . . .

  Chapter 21

  One month later

  The memorial service for John Jackson Rainhorse was a spectacular event. Lindsay held her son’s hand and smiled softly, wishing he could have been here to see the extravaganza.

  Since the day Rainhorse saved the city of Seattle from a nuclear explosion nearly seven years earlier, he’d become a bit of a rock star in Ft. Peck. When news of his death began to filter though the reservation, Lindsay felt the need to honor him publicly, to allow his admirers and acquaintances to get closure.

  By the end of the service, Lindsay was exhausted. She, Rainhorse’s daughter, June Ann, who’d flown in from Seattle for the memorial service, and Neha stood in the receiving line and smiled at each well-wisher who filed by, one by one. People she’d never seen before were offering her their sincerest condolences and telling her what an incredible person Rainhorse was.

  Lindsay spared no expense to give her friend the biggest sendoff imaginable. The finest food was brought in for the wake, which occurred right after the service. Music was performed by R. Carlos Nakai, the world's premier performer of the traditional cedar wood flute. His Earth Spirit and Canyon Trilogy albums were the only Native American albums to be certified gold and platinum.

  The nation’s foremost Cheyenne Tribal Religious Leader, Daniel Crazy Horse, gave the eulogy at the ceremony and when R. Carlos Nakai struck up Amazing Grace in the background, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.

  Lindsay could see the end of the line in sight, as the last of the gatherers were leaving.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” one said.

  “Thank you,” Lindsay replied.

  “He had a wonderful spirit,” said another.

  “Yes, he did,” she agreed.

  “I’m so sorry your husband couldn’t be here,” still another consoled.

  “Me, too.”

  “Are you have a having a gathering afterward?” a heavy man asked.

  “No. This is it,” Lindsay replied.

  When the last of the well-wishers passed, Lindsay exhaled and looked down toward Jackie.

  “You’ve been so good and quiet,” she praised. “it’s hard to believe you’re only five.”

  “I’m almost six,” he argued.

  “Six?” June Ann interjected. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big.”

  “He is,” Neha agreed. “Are you ready to go, Jackie?”

  Neha, June Ann, Lindsay and Jackie walked down the steps of the church where a car waited. Red Feather, his wife Summer Rose, and their two children waited in the Chevy Suburban.

  “That took a while,” Red noted, as everyone slid into the vehicle and buckled in.

  “I should have never talked about free food in the open invitation,” she said.

  “You mean you should have never said, ‘Music to be performed by R. Carlos Nakai.’”

  “I never even heard of the guy,” Lindsay confessed.

  “
This is the res,” Red argued. “He’s a big deal in Native American culture, and Daniel Crazy Horse is a direct descendant of the great warrior Crazy Horse from the 1840s.”

  “Well, whatever. It sure packed them in. How are you feeling today, Red?” she asked.

  “Better every day,” he replied.

  “It’s really true,” Summer Rose added. “He actually mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedges yesterday. Maybe someday he’ll pull up the ugly tree stump like he’s been promising me.”

  “Ouch, I’m feeling some pain coming on,” Red complained.

  “Is it in your side?” Summer Rose asked.

  “No, it’s coming from the passenger seat.”

  Lindsay chuckled. Summer Rose scowled.

  “Mommy,” Jackie interrupted tugging on her shirt. “Why are we going this way? Our house is the other way.”

  “We have to make a stop, baby,” she teased. “I have a really big surprise for you.”

  “Is it ice cream?” Jackie asked.

  “No . . . better than ice cream.”

  “Is it Ryder from Paw Patrol?”

  “No, it’s better than Ryder, too.”

  Jackie’s mouth fell open and his eyes grew wide as saucers, “It’s Lightning McQueen!”

  “Nope. Even better than Lightning McQueen.”

  “Wow!” he shrieked. “I can’t wait.”

  Ten minutes later, the Suburban pulled into a secluded farmhouse where a private gathering among the family and her closest friends was being held. Lindsay saw people gathered there already. Her mother was there with Sam Steele. Kujo was on hand with his wife, Molly. Six was by his side, wagging his tail happily. She saw Ellie Limberhand and Ska, but she didn’t see the one person she was looking for.

  “Where’s my surprise?” Jackie asked, inquisitively.

  When the door of the Suburban opened, it was Jackie who noticed the larger-than-life figure approaching.

  “Daddy!” he screamed.

  Matty Yellow Wolf was walking with a cane but formed a broad smile on his face when he saw his son. Seeing Jackie’s eyes light up and Matty’s huge smile nearly made Lindsay’s heart melt. There was a time not all that long ago when she wondered if this moment would ever come.

  “Jackie-boy, come here!” he cackled, extending his arms.

  The young boy ran to his daddy. Matty embraced him.

  “You’re out of the hospital,” Jackie exclaimed. “Yay!”

  “First day out, Jackie-boy,” Matty replied. “I’m coming home today.”

  “For good?”

  “You bet, for good.”

  “Pick me up. Pick me up,” Jackie demanded.

  “He can’t do that yet,” Lindsay cautioned. “We need to take it easy on Daddy for the next several weeks. He still has a lot of healing to do. Okay?”

  “Okay, mommy, I promise,” the boy said. “Can I go swing with my cousins now?”

  “Sure.”

  The little boy hugged his father again and scampered off.

  Matty smiled and shrugged, “So much for the tearful reunion.”

  “He’s five, Matty. He has the attention span of a gnat. He’s been sitting still for hours. He needs to burn off energy.”

  Lindsay smiled as Matty made his way to her, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make the memorial service,” he said. “I was in a great deal of pain. The meds are kicking in now, though.”

  “That’s okay, it’s not a problem. I’m just so happy to see you moving around. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your doctor visit this morning. What did he say?”

  “Looking good, love,” Matty replied. “I still have a long journey ahead with rehab, but the doc says he expects me to have a full recovery.”

  Matty slipped his arm around Lindsay’s waist. He gave her a long kiss, “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “I’m just so happy you are going to be okay and Jackie is home, safe. Life can be normal again, soon.”

  Matty sighed, “You don’t have to pretend with me, Lindsay. It will be a very long time before things will be normal. Just know I will be here for you.”

  “I know.”

  Matty wrapped his arm around her waist. She put her hand on his and gave it an affectionate squeeze.

  “I’m so glad to have you home,” she said. “All this has been so stressful, and I’ve felt so alone without you.”

  “I’m here, now,” Matty said. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day,” she replied. She slid into his arms and they shared a long, warm kiss.

  “I’ve missed that,” Lindsay admitted.

  “Me too,” Matty agreed.

  “More to come . . . later,” she promised.

  “Am I interrupting?” Ska asked.

  “Hey, Ska,” Lindsay greeted. “I didn’t see you coming.”

  “You know how we Indians are,” she replied. “We sneak up really well.”

  Ska hugged Matty first and then wrapped her arms around Lindsay. Lindsay hugged her tightly, “Thank you so much for taking care of Neha during all this.”

  “I’m just glad Jackie, Matty and Red are all home safe and are going to be okay. After everything you’ve done for me, this was the very least I could do.”

  Lindsay nodded, “Thank you for being here.”

  “Where else would I be?”

  “I’m going to go check on Jackie,” Matty said. Lindsay smiled and nodded.

  “Lindsay,” Sam Steele called out. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Special Agent Andrews is here. It’s time.”

  Lindsay smiled and nodded, “Sam, would you mind walking around and asking everyone to be seated?”

  “Certainly,” he said. “Is the guest of honor here. yet?”

  “I don’t know,” Lindsay replied. “I haven’t seen him.”

  “I’m moving slow but I’m here,” a deep voice resonated from behind.

  Chapter 22

  Lindsay turned toward the deep voice. John “Jackson” Rainhorse limped forward, using a cane to steady himself.

  “You look pretty damn good for a dead guy,” Sam noted.

  “Here, let me help you to a seat,” Lindsay offered, slipping her arms underneath his.

  “I’ll go gather everyone together,” Sam offered.

  “Thanks, Sam,” Lindsay replied, grunting with the effort to steady such a big man. She helped him to his seat.

  “How are you feeling Jackson?” she asked.

  “Like I have been dragged over a gravel road by a tractor,” he described.

  “I told you, we could have waited another week or two for this,” Lindsay replied.

  “No. No more waiting. Between the hospital and the house, I was feeling very . . . enclosed.”

  Lindsay chuckled, “That, I can understand.”

  “How’s our patient?” Andrews asked, approaching the two of them with Neha and June Ann. There was another man Rainhorse didn’t recognize, a Dakota man. He was in his early fifties, short with long black hair, peppered gray, pulled back into a ponytail.

  “I’m in some pain, but alive, and damn lucky to be that way,” Rainhorse proclaimed.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Andrews said. “We just arrested Matt Raven Claw,” he said.

  “I know him,” Lindsay said. “He’s the janitor at the Lindhorse Foundation.”

  “He’s also the employee who’d been feeding information to Hank Rattling Thunder. His uncle owned the ranch where HRT was hiding out.”

  “That’s too bad,” Lindsay replied.

  “Who is the man with you?” Rainhorse asked. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

  “I wanted you to meet a special person I brought along,” Andrews said. “His name is Mankato. He’s a senior EMT working out of the Plentywood Fire Department. He’s the man who saved your life after Rattling Thunder shot you.”

  Rainhorse smiled and extended his hand, “I’m pleased to meet you, and pleased to be able to th
ank you for what you did.”

  “I’m very happy to see you alive,” Mankato said. “You’ve done a lot for this res. I’m a big fan.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. My daughter was one of the many girls you saved when you broke up HRT’s sex slave trade,” he explained. “She’s alive because of you.”

  “I am happy to hear it,” Rainhorse said. “How is she doing?”

  “She’s married to a Sioux man and has two kids. We owe you such a debt of gratitude. It was an honor to save you.”

  “Lindsay tells me I was actually dead when you found me,” the Cheyenne said.

  “Fortunately, I got to you seconds after your heart stopped,” Mankato replied. “I performed CPR, gave you one milligram of Epinephrine. Then I zapped you twice with the paddles to jumpstart your heart. After that, it was a matter of stabilizing you for travel. It was touch and go for you, big guy, I won’t lie. It’s a miracle you are with us today.”

  “Thank you so much for everything,” Lindsay interjected. She looked to Andrews, “How did you know to bring him along?”

  Andrews chuckled, “I knew Rainhorse was headed into the lion’s den with HRT, Aretas, Al Wasabi and a couple dozen of HRT’s men. Bringing along as many medical personnel as I could find on short notice was the logical thing.”

  Rainhorse extended his hand toward Andrews. The FBI agent shook the massive hand.

  “I never got a chance to thank you for what you have done for me . . . and for Lindsay. She is my . . . family. I will never forget.”

  “You can thank Lindsay,” Andrews insisted. “I put things in motion, but it was Lindsay who came up with this whole plan.”

  “No thanks needed,” Lindsay said to Rainhorse. “We’re family and with family, no thanks are needed. Someone I love very much told me that recently.”

  Rainhorse smiled, “Sounds like a smart man.”

  “I have to tell you, the concept of having a memorial service for Rainhorse was pure genius,” Andrews said. “My sources tell me there have been ‘Rainhorse sightings’ and rumors that he was the good Samaritan. The rumors were spreading through the res before the memorial. You were right up there with Bigfoot. This memorial service has really put the kibosh on all that. The best we can tell, everyone thinks Rainhorse and Neha were killed in Yemen.”