“I agree,” said Lindsay, “and the sketch artist rendering you’ve been circulating helped a lot, too. The rendering of the good Samaritan looks nothing like Jackson. He’s better looking.”
“I’m sorry, say again. Who’s better looking?” Rainhorse snapped. “Me or the man in the sketch?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Lindsay replied.
“Wait a minute, I thought I was the model for the sketch?” Mankato said.
“Oh . . . I am so sorry,” Lindsay replied. Her face turned beet red.
Mankato laughed, “I was kidding. I saw the sketch. No one is that ugly. Listen, I’m going to go back out front and leave you good people to talk but thank you all for allowing me to meet my idol.”
“You’re welcome,” Lindsay replied, “and thank you again for saving my best friend’s life.”
Neha hugged him, “Thank you.”
Mankato smiled and left.
Once Mankato was out of earshot, Rainhorse made eye contact with Andrews.
“Okay, I’m here at this little circus sideshow and am feeling a little like the dog-faced boy. Everyone is looking at me, but no one is telling me anything. I have been getting a strong feeling there has been activity going on behind my back—activity that concerns me. Are you going to tell me about it?”
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” Andrews replied. “What are the doctors telling you?”
“If the bullet from Rattling Thunder hit me another inch higher it would have pierced his heart,” Neha interjected, “and he would not be here today.”
“He was in surgery for nine hours,” Lindsay said.
“I heard,” Andrews relayed. “Sounds like a vascular specialist was flown in.”
“And it was still touch and go,” Neha admitted.
“How about long-term?” Andrews asked.
‘The prognosis for a full recovery is good,” Neha assured, stroking Rainhorse’s hair. “The key will be to keep this one from moving around too much for the next few months.”
“They’re staying with me while Rainhorse recovers,” Lindsay added. “I’ve cleared my calendar at work. I’m taking off to be with him.” She flashed Rainhorse a stiff look, “I will make sure his activity is restricted. I can promise it.”
Rainhorse looked at Andrews and shrugged, “I guess I will be taking it easy for a while.”
Andrews chuckled, “I wouldn’t want to cross her.”
“Would not think of it. So, what happened with Rattling Thunder?” Rainhorse asked.
“Oh, you haven’t heard?”
“If I had heard, I would not be asking.”
“Fair enough. They took him off the respirator last Tuesday,” Andrews said. “He died twenty-four hours later.”
“I’m not shedding a tear,” Lindsay scoffed.
“After Rattling Thunder shot you at point blank range, the choppers swooped in,” Andrews continued. “The SWAT Team emerged and there was quite a gun fight. HRT was shot in the neck. He spent his own time on the surgery table. They saved his life, but he slipped into a coma. Finally, the doctors determined there was no brain activity and the judge ordered the hospital to pull the plug.”
“And Rose Rattling Thunder?” Neha asked.
“The one area remaining to be finished. Rose escaped from Ellie Limberhand before we reached her. She is still at large, but don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
“I can help with that,” Rainhorse volunteered.
“No, you cannot,” Lindsay shot back. “The Tribal Police and the FBI are more than capable of finding Rose Rattling Thunder.”
“But . . .” Rainhorse began.
“No buts!” Neha demanded. “Just listen to Agent Andrews.”
“That’s my cue,” said Andrews. “How do you feel about spending the rest of your life in obscurity?”
“That is how I have spent most of my life,” Rainhorse replied. “I did just fine.”
“I didn’t think it would be too much of a problem, though Lindsay fought me tooth and nail,” Andrews said.
“I am surprised you survived the experience,” Rainhorse interjected. “How bad is my situation with the FBI?”
Andrews let out a breath, “As you know, vigilantism is not tolerated in any form by the federal government. You were responsible for the beating and maiming of Henry Dancing Bear, the man who killed two federal agents and nearly killed Lindsay. You also killed several of Hank Rattling Thunder’s men. I think we counted nine, between the barn where they were holding Jackie and HRT’s hideout. The total is ambiguous because several of HRT’s men were killed by the SWAT Team and were still sorting out who’s who.”
“I killed eleven,” Rainhorse reported.
“Okay, we’ll stick with nine. And then there’s Al Wasabi and Aretas.”
“Actually, Aretas was still alive after our fight. Al Wasabi killed him, though I must admit, I doubt he would have lived.”
“Ok, then, there was Al Wasabi . . .”
“Hank Rattling Thunder killed Al Wasabi, not me,” Rainhorse corrected.
Andrews raised his eyebrows and paused momentarily before continuing, “Oh . . . okay, did not know that . . . whatever. There were a lot of dead people. We’re still sorting all that out but back to the original question. When you engaged Hank Rattling Thunder on the Raven Claw Ranch, you interfered with a federal investigation. You committed about a half dozen other violations I won’t get into but those are the highlights.”
“I understand,” Rainhorse said. “It does not look too good, am I right?”
Andrews shrugged.
“Fortunately for us, everyone in the FBI believes you were killed in Yemen by Al Wasabi, which is what the Yemeni authorities reported, and UNICEF confirmed. The Yemeni government now knows Al Wasabi and his son, Samir, are missing and suspects foul play, but no one has recovered any bodies.”
“How hard are they looking?”
“Al Wasabi’s organization has terrorized Yemen. It’s like finding a cure for the black plague. How hard do you think?”
“So, even the federal government thinks I’m dead?” Rainhorse asked.
“That’s right,” Andrews confirmed. “My partner and the sheriff were present at your lovely memorial service. We have an official death certificate for John Rainhorse. As far as our paperwork goes, the person at large is officially listed as ‘person unknown—a good Samaritan.’”
“A good Samaritan, I like that,” Rainhorse said.
“Well, the problem is, the FBI has officially placed ‘the good Samaritan’ on its most wanted list for the killings we just mentioned and for impeding a federal investigation.”
“There is a plan, I take it?” Rainhorse inquired.
“Yes, there is,” Andrews continued. “And you can thank Lindsay. She opened up her pocketbook and we’ve been able to establish a new identity for you and Neha, complete with credentials and passport.”
“United States passport?”
Andrews shrugged, “Not exactly.”
“You’ve managed this through the FBI?” Rainhorse asked.
“No,” he replied. “You’re not the only one who’s developed some questionable resources in the course of his career. Those resources are good but expensive. Lindsay took care of that part.”
“Jim, can’t you get in trouble for this?” Rainhorse asked.
“Only if they find out,” Andrews replied. “It’s in my best interest as well as yours for this to remain a secret.”
“Still, I don’t want you to lose your job or go to jail,” Rainhorse insisted.
“I’ve thought about that a lot. Protecting a man who saved Seattle from a nuclear explosion, crushed a gambling, drug and sex trade operation on the res, and saved a five-year-old boy from a murdering kidnapper is a pretty good guy in my book. If I get caught trying to protect a man like you, I like my chances. Still to your point, let’s not get caught. And to that . . .”
“Why do I feel there is a shoe about to drop?” Rainhorse replie
d. He looked at Lindsay. She sighed.
“Tell him,” Lindsay urged.
“You can’t remain in the States much longer,” Andrews explained. “The government thinks Rainhorse died in Yemen, but they will eventually catch up to you if you remain stateside, especially here on the res. You are like Harrison Ford in Ft. Peck. You’ll be spotted eventually. You can stay for the remainder of your recovery and rehabilitation, provided Lindsay keeps you under lock and key. I can keep the dogs at bay for a few months, but you’ll have to leave eventually.”
Rainhorse looked at Neha, “You’re okay with this?”
“I’ve spent five years with you away from Ft. Peck,” she reported. “As long as we are together and my daughter can come visit, I don’t care where we hang our hat.”
“Where would we go?” Rainhorse asked.
“Funny you should mention it,” Lindsay chimed in. “I’ve been doing some research.”
“I’ll bet you have,” he said, turning to Andrews. “Lindsay has an idea.”
“Shocking, I say. Shocking,” Andrews snarked.
“I’ve found a perfect place for you and Neha to live,” Lindsay continued, ignoring the dismissive remark. “I’ve been going through things with Neha . . .”
“Exhaustively going over things,” Neha interjected.
“We won’t make the same mistake that I made regarding the Lindhorse Foundation,” Lindsay said. “I know you aren’t a nine-to-five guy, but I do have another idea. Would you like to hear it?”
“I am on pins and needles,” Rainhorse replied.
“I know you enjoyed your charity work . . .”
“It’s the kind of work you love, Rainhorse,” Neha agreed. “I really like Lindsay’s plan.”
“Where is this Shangri-La?” Rainhorse asked.
“It is anything but Shangri-La,” Lindsay argued. “It’s Six Nations of the Grand River.”
Rainhorse’s eyes widened, “Another reservation?”
Lindsay nodded.
“In Canada?”
She nodded again, “They don’t call it a ‘Native American’ reservation there, because it’s in Canada. They call it a First Nation’s Reserve.”
“I’m aware,” Rainhorse replied. “The res has members from all six Iroquois nations living there.”
“I thought you might know a thing or two about the place,” Lindsay said.
“I’m intrigued, but why Six Nations?”
“It’s in Canada, for one thing,” Lindsay said. “That solves the issue of you living in the United States. The reserve has many of the protections for First Nations that the US has for our Native Americans citizens.”
“Guys,” Sam Steele said, popping into the room. “I hate to interrupt but people are getting restless out here.”
“We’ll be right out, Sam, thanks,” Lindsay promised.
“Why are people out there gathered anyway?” Rainhorse asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Because,” Andrews began, “as far as I know the people gathered on this property today are the only living beings who know you are still alive. We have to make sure it stays that way. The good news is, this is a group we feel we can trust. I’m going to go out and speak to them now.”
“What about Rose Rattling Thunder and Henry Dancing Bear?” Rainhorse asked. “They both saw me. They know I’m alive.”
Andrews nodded, “Rose is on the run. She had bigger fish to fry than to worry about you. Dancing Bear will not be a problem. The moment Hank Rattling Thunder found out he lied about killing you, he put a contract out on Dancing Bear and his entire family. I promised to protect his family through WITSEC but only under the condition that he never speaks of you. Believe me, he won’t say anything.”
“The hospital personnel?” Rainhorse asked.
“You were brought in as a John Doe,” Andrews said. “We limited the number of personnel who had access to you. The hospital is in Plentywood, not the res. No one knows Rainhorse in Plentywood. They see lots of John Doe tribal members come in and out of the hospital during the year.”
“Still, someone out there might leak it. What then?”
“Eh,” Andrews squawked dismissively. “People still say they see Elvis. If it happens, we’ll deny it and ride the storm out.”
Rainhorse nodded, “You have been a busy man, Jim. I do not deserve the kindness you have shown to me.”
Andrews smiled, “You do deserve it, my man. What you do not deserve, is to go to jail for the rest of your life for taking down a drug warlord and sex trafficker like Hank Rattling Thunder. And you should know, the people in Yemen don’t know Al Wasabi, Aretas and Samir are dead, but they know they have disappeared. There are people dancing in the streets there. You’ve saved thousands of people from suffering.”
Rainhorse gave a soft smile and extended his hand, “Regardless. Thank you again.”
Andrews shook his hand, “We’ll be in touch.”
Epilogue
Three weeks after the memorial service.
Rainhorse finished reading Jackie three bedtime stories. The young boy then begged him for snuggle time until he fell asleep. He was happy to comply.
Afterward, Rainhorse winced as he sat on the rocking bench on the back porch to view the beautiful Montana sunset. The pain around the many sutures now on his body was excruciating, but still, he refused pain-killing medication. After a moment of relaxation, the pain subsided to a tolerable level.
The evening brought a cool breeze with it. He took a long, deep breath, allowing fresh air to fill his lungs. He was exhausted after a long day.
Lindsay opened the back door leading to the porch. She was carrying two cups of hot tea. She silently handed him one and leaned against a post, sipping her beverage and taking in the fresh air.
Neither Lindsay nor Rainhorse spoke for a while, allowing a comfortable silence to hang in the air. Lindsay was smiling warmly. Rainhorse rocked on the bench gently sipping his tea.
It was Lindsay who finally spoke first, “Jackie tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time getting to know him.”
“I have,” he said. “He loves to swing; he loves to swim; he loves to play, and he really loves to watch Paw Patrol. I have seen his favorite episodes five times each.”
Lindsay’s face turned red; she covered her eyes in embarrassment, “I’m sorry. He does like to watch the same ones over and over.”
“It’s okay. He sits on my lap and snuggles with me as we watch. I love every minute.”
“He does love his Papa Rain,” she said. “You know that’s what he calls you, now?”
“I am aware,” he admitted. “I hear it all time. Papa Rain, can we watch that one again? Papa Rain, can I have a snack? Papa Rain, can you push me on the swing?”
Lindsay laughed out loud. Her laugh nearly made his heart melt.
“We’ve been through quite a lot together, haven’t we?” she said.
“We have.”
“How are you healing?”
“It is still slow,” he replied. “I have been shot and I have been cut, but never both at the same time and never this badly. I have even thought I was dead before, but this time I was certain of it.”
“You didn’t believe I’d let that happen, did you?” she asked.
“The hospital administrator told me you paid quite a premium to fly in the most famous vascular surgeon in the country from Minneapolis,” Rainhorse said. “Dr. Wiseman saved my life, I am told. Without his expertise, I had no chance for survival. Even the surgeons at Sheridan Memorial said they could not have saved me without him. And now, here I am, a month later, sipping tea on your porch. I am humbled by your sacrifice. It had to have cost you a fortune.”
Lindsay ambled toward the large Cheyenne and sat next to him on the bench swing, “It was no sacrifice. This is what people do for those they love. I’m just glad I have the resources to afford it. I would have paid ten times the price to save you—you know that.”
“I do.”
“
Look at it this way, you saved my mother millions by saving Jackie,” Lindsay continued. “Grandma Vandy was set to meet Rattling Thunder’s demands.”
“I am told Dr. Wiseman was unwilling to come initially,” he inquired.
“Well, he had his own busy schedule,” Lindsay replied. “I had to explain things to him . . . over multiple conversations.”
“The head nurse told me you were . . . how did she put it? Oh, yeah, she said you were up his ass with a red-hot poker until he relented.”
Lindsay shrugged, “You’re not the only one who uses questionable tactics to persuade people to do what you want.”
“Indeed?”
“I learned from the best.”
“And how were you able to persuade Jim Andrews to go to such lengths to protect my identity?” he asked.
“Believe it or not, that was almost all Jim Andrews’s doing,” she said. “I may or may not have been . . .”
“Up his ass with a red-hot poker, too?”
“That’s such a vulgar phrase, Jackson. I prefer the term . . . influential.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Well, we both agreed you needed protection,” Lindsay outlined. “Despite the efforts you made in saving Jackie and ridding the world of the likes of Hank Rattling Thunder, interfering with a federal investigation and the vigilantism would have put you back in prison for who knows how long.”
“So, Andrews agreed to set me up with a new ID in Canada?”
“Not exactly,” Lindsay admitted. “Andrews wanted to set you up with a new ID in a country with no extradition agreements with the US—some place like Morocco or Nepal.”
“Wow. Morocco would have been nice. Neha and I could enjoy the Essaouira. We could have explored the souqs of Marrakesh, hiked the High Atlas Mountains, visited the Roman ruins at Volubilis. You didn’t like the idea?”
She shook her head, “Not so much, no.”
“Why not?”
“Well, all those things you mentioned would have held your interest for a few months, but after that, you would have been looking for something more meaningful to do.”
A Good Samaritan Page 14
