Comeback Trail

by Carolina Mac

  “Yep, she’s stalking you all right. Going for the gusto right there.” He chuckled. “Send that picture to my phone.”

  Broken Spur Roadhouse.

  JACKY met me at the Spur when he finished work and after we drank a pitcher of Lone Star we dug into Miss Jane’s rib special of the day.

  Ricki came around to take our plates away and smiled at me like she always did. “Saw you on TV, Logan. Linda got a little crazy didn’t she?” Ricki giggled. “Didn’t know she had it in her.” She winked at me and said, “I’d better watch myself.”

  Jeeze.

  “I wasn’t happy to have it on the news,” I said. “Last thing I wanted.”

  Ricki leaned down and whispered. “Your other girlfriend is here—the one that Linda punched. She’s in a booth down the back but I seen her watching you.”

  “Damn it. I can’t go anywhere without her.”

  Ricki giggled. “You’ve got a tough life, Logan. Women all over you.”

  I shook my head. “Not as much fun as it sounds, Ricki. Not by a long shot.”

  After Ricki went to get our pie Jack leaned in closer and said, “Is that the investigator we hired? Haven’t seen that guy in here before. Maybe he’s on Fiona already.”

  I turned to look where Jack was pointing and there was Ace watching us and watching Fiona. “Yep, that’s him. We’re paying him big bucks. Hope to hell and back he’s worth it.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Thursday, May 28th.

  Sheriff’s Office. Preston.

  IVAN was back at his desk on light duty and Jack figured he was in for a whole day of listening to Ivan run his mouth. Mrs. Graham had heard the story of how Ivan got stabbed in Micky Swain’s motel room three times already, but she was too polite to tell Ivan to stuff it.

  Jack was relieved when Sheriff Tucker hollered for him. He jumped up and ran down the short hallway to the sheriff’s office. “Yes, sir. You hollered for me?”

  “Jacky boy, I got a list here of shady doctors Swain might go to for the bullet you put in his leg.” Tucker grinned. “Good one, boy. Too bad you didn’t shoot it right up his ass crack.”

  “My aim ain’t that good, Sheriff. Only had a couple lessons.”

  “True, and I can’t fault you for that. Time has been short around here since you came on board. Anyway, get on this list and see what you can find out. You catch a hot one, call me right away.”

  “Yep, will do, Sheriff.” Jack took the list and headed out to his squad car.

  Preston Hospital.

  AT ten o’clock I arrived in Clay’s room to take him home to the ranch. “You all set, partner?”

  Clay was dressed in the clothes Jacky had dropped off and he was more than happy to be going home. “I’ve spent so much time in this hospital lately I know all the nurses by name.”

  “Get any dates?”

  “I got a couple of numbers for future reference. I’m a bit tied up with Bonnie Sue at the moment, but you never know.”

  “Nope, you never know. Sometimes you think there’s only one person in the world for you and then the moment comes, and you say what the hell was I thinking?”

  Clay frowned. “Are you talking about Linda?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  His eyes widened. “I need to hear that whole story.”

  “Maybe over a couple pitchers of Lone Star. Let’s get you out of here.”

  My cell rang as I got Clay settled in the front seat of my truck and it was Miss Jane.

  “I’m heading for the courthouse, Logan. The jury has reached a verdict on Harper. Where are you?”

  “At the hospital picking Clay up. He won’t be able to get out of the truck.” I jumped behind the wheel and Clay wanted to know who I was talking to. “Miss Jane says the jury is coming in.”

  “I want to hear the verdict.”

  “You can’t get into the courthouse, Clay. I’m not letting you do it. We’ll wait outside until Miss Jane comes out, okay?”

  He let out a long breath. “I wanted to see Harper’s face when the jury found her guilty, Logy. She shot Bonnie Sue and me.”

  “I know she did, and she did a lot of other underhanded things to our family too. I want her to go to jail for a long time just as much as you do.”

  Sheriff’s Office. Preston.

  SHERIFF Tucker headed for the door saying, “I’ll be at the courthouse. I want to hear the verdict.”

  “Can I come with you, Sheriff?” asked Bonnie Sue. “The verdict is important to me.”

  “Sure, Bonnie Sue. Of course, it is. You’re the victim. I should’ve thought of that. Sorry.” He turned and hollered, “Ivan, hold the fort.”

  “Yep, Sheriff. Will do.” Ivan grinned. He loved being in charge.

  IVAN struggled at his desk typing reports into his computer. His right arm was killer sore—not just above the elbow where the gash was, but his arm hurt all the way down to his wrist every time he moved it. He was glad to be back at work all the same. No calls had come in and Ivan figured the whole town was at the courthouse.

  Yelling coming from the back of the building where the holding cells were located put him on alert and Ivan figured he’d better take a look. Sheriff Tucker left him in charge.

  He sauntered past the sheriff’s office and opened the door to the holding cells. “What’s all the hollering, girls?” he asked them with a grin.

  “We need you, Ivan. Come in here for a minute. Kate has a killer headache. Can you get her a glass of water and an Advil or something?”

  “Sure, I’ve got some in my desk. Be right back.”

  Ivan got the Advil from the drawer of his desk and a bottle of water from the lunch room and headed back to the cells. “Here you go.” He handed the bottle of water through the bars with his right hand and Kate grabbed on to his wrist. She twisted his newly stitched arm and made him scream in pain.

  While Kate hung on, grit her teeth and twisted Ivan’s arm for all she was worth, Laney reached through the bars and grabbed the keys off Ivan’s belt.

  “Don’t. Stop. You can’t do that.” Ivan’s eyes were watering from the pain in his arm and he didn’t have the strength to stop them.

  Laney undid the lock on the cell, opened the door and both girls grabbed hold of Ivan. They spun him around and heaved him onto the bottom bunk.

  “Hurry up,” said Laney. “Get out of the cell so I can lock it.” Kate ran out and Laney clanged the door shut.

  “Don’t do this, girls. You’ll be sorry when the sheriff catches y’all.” The girls paid no attention to Ivan and headed for the back door.

  In the next cell, Buster hollered to them. “Let me out too, girls. I didn’t have no bail money.”

  “Aw, shit, Buster.” Laney undid the lock on Buster’s cell and let him out. They all ran out the back door together.

  Preston Courthouse.

  THE courthouse parking lot and the street out front were both jammed with media vans, mostly from Lubbock. There was nowhere to park but down the street a little ways. I texted Miss Jane and told her where Clay and I were sitting, and she said she’d find us.

  Clay fidgeted in his seat and I could tell he was uncomfortable sitting upright in the truck. I needed to get him home and onto the sofa.

  Ten more minutes passed before the crowd began spilling out of the front doors of the courthouse. I spotted Miss Jane running towards my truck and she wasn’t wearing a happy face.

  I jumped out, ran around to the sidewalk, opened the back door and helped her inside. “What a fiasco in there, boys. A nightmare, that’s what it was.”

  “What was the verdict?” Clay asked in a weak voice.

  “They said it was self-defense.”

  “It wasn’t,” said Clay. “I was there when she shot Bonnie Sue. Harper tried to kill Bonnie Sue and she shot me too.”

  “I know, sweetheart. It was a terrible verdict.”

  “Where’s Harper now?”

  “They took her into the ante-room. She’ll be rel
eased soon.”

  “I hope the TV people crucify her,” said Clay. “Let’s go home. I’m gonna puke.”

  “Drop into the Spur on your way,” said Miss Jane. “I think we all need a drink.”

  “You speak the truth,” I said. “I could use a drink.”

  Clay’s head was in his hands and he wasn’t talking.

  Preston County.

  JACK drove across Preston County, north to south and east to west. He drove from one doctor’s address to the next and each one had the same story. They hadn’t seen Micky Swain and hadn’t treated any unreported bullet wounds.

  Why would they tell Jack if they had? They’d only get arrested. Were they all lying or did Swain go to a doctor far away to get the bullet out? Was the bullet still in his leg? Jack didn’t know. He kept going down the list.

  Broken Spur Roadhouse.

  I had to support Clay to get him into the roadhouse. He should have been going straight home to lie down but I didn’t nag at him. He was in rough enough shape. Stopping at the Spur was a bad idea but with him feeling so down and betrayed by the verdict, I could see his point. He needed a beer and so did the rest of us.

  Miss Jane set us up in a booth close to the bar and sat down with us. She was drinking red wine—her choice—and she was almost in tears over Harper walking away from shooting Clay and Bonnie Sue. Mostly Clay because we were her boys, but she felt bad for Bonnie Sue too, of course.

  “What’s the world coming to?” she asked. “People can shoot deputies doing their duty and call it self-defense? That’s bullshit and we all know it.”

  I nodded and refilled my glass. It was going to be a tough day. Miss Jane had gone to get more wine and to fetch our second pitcher when Linda texted me.

  “Meet me for dinner tonight?”

  “Where?”

  “Preston Club?”

  “No thanks. I have to take care of Clay. Sorry.”

  “Okay. I didn’t realize he was coming home today.”

  “Taking him home now.”

  “Call you later.”

  “Sure.”

  “That Linda?” asked Clay.

  “Yeah, she wanted to go to dinner at the Preston Club.”

  Clay made a face.

  “That’s what I thought too. Not one of my favorites. I’ll make us burgers at home.”

  “I want to stay home,” said Clay. “I want to sit on the porch and write a new song.”

  “You boys stay for lunch,” said Miss Jane. “Cheryl has the special almost ready.”

  “I could eat,” I said and looked at Clay to see if he wanted to stay and my brother was pointing at the doorway. I turned and couldn’t believe my eyes. Buster Tate was walking through the door. He gave us a little wave and went to sit at the bar.

  “How did he get out?” asked Clay. “Bonnie Sue said he didn’t have bail money.”

  “No idea,” I said, “and I’m not asking him. My days of being friendly to Buster Tate are over.”

  We ate the lunch special, minded our own and I took Clay home.

  McKenna Ranch.

  CLAY was more than ready to lie down on the sofa when I got him home. He was exhausted from the trip and from our stop at the Spur. “I can’t figure how Buster got out of jail,” said Clay. “Phone Jacky and ask him.”

  “He’s working,” I said. “I don’t want to think about Buster Tate.”

  “We have to think about the whole gang who tried to take us down, Logy, and he’s one of them. He’s a liar and a thief and he’s part of Swain’s gang.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I rinsed the carafe and made a pot of coffee.

  Clay wasn’t letting up. “Maybe Jacky’s on his lunch. Try his cell.”

  I didn’t want Clay getting more upset than he already was. My brother was in tough shape physically and emotionally he was about to lose it. I gave in and called. Jack answered right away. “McKenna.”

  “Hey, Jack, we saw Buster at the Spur and wondered how he got out of jail when he couldn’t pay the bail.”

  “Buster ain’t out of jail.”

  “Saw him a half hour ago.”

  “I’m just getting back to the office. Parking my squad. Let me call you back when I find out.”

  “Sure.”

  “What?” asked Clay.

  “He’s getting to the office now. He’ll let us know.”

  JACK ran into the office and Mrs. Graham was the only one he saw. She was chatting on the phone to her friends like she always did between emergency calls. “Where’s Ivan?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe he went to lunch.”

  Jack ran back and the sheriff’s office was empty. He kept going and saw the door to the run standing open. He checked the cells and Ivan was sprawled on the bunk where the girls had been locked up. His arm was bleeding bad, he was covered in blood and he was next to unconscious.

  “Ivan, what the hell happened here?” Jack called 911, picked the keys up off the floor of the run and unlocked the cell. He ran over to Ivan and asked him again, “Ivan, what happened?”

  Groggy, Ivan mumbled. “Girls got my arm.”

  “Holy shit, Ivan. You let all the prisoners get away.”

  Jack ran to the front door to wait for the ambulance and called Logan back. “Ivan got sucked in by Laney and Kate and they escaped. They must have let Buster out too because he ain’t here. I’ve gotta go. Got an emergency here.”

  Jack ended the call and called Sheriff Tucker. “Hey, Sheriff, where are y’all. Got an emergency situation here at the shop.”

  “What kind of emergency, Jacky?”

  “Worst kind, Sheriff. Ivan fucked up huge and let all the prisoners escape. Got an ambulance coming for him.”

  The sheriff cursed the air blue, then caught his breath and said, “I’ll be there in five minutes. Hold tight, boy.”

  The paramedics were in the cell loading Ivan onto the stretcher when Sheriff Tucker and Bonnie Sue arrived. Ivan was covered in his own blood and semi-coherent. He was babbling about women having headaches when they shoved him into the ambulance and took him to the hospital.

  “This is a bloody shitstorm, Jacky boy. We’ve got escaped prisoners on the loose. We have to get out there and round them up.”

  “Yes, sir. Where do you think they’d go?”

  “Bet they ran straight to they momma,” said the sheriff. “Let’s take a trip to Swain’s trailer again.”

  “Buster wouldn’t go there,” said Jack. “He probably went home to his own momma.”

  “We’ll get him next. Let’s go.” To Bonnie Sue: “You got the office girl. Somebody has to stay here.”

  Bonnie Sue didn’t look happy, but she didn’t protest. She walked straight to her desk and sat down.

  AFTER a wasted trip to Swain’s trailer and listening to an earful of cursing and laughing from Carson Wagoner, Sheriff Tucker was in a foul mood.

  “What if it gets out that I can’t even keep prisoners locked up in my own jail, Jacky? We’re gonna look like idiots and this is an election year. I can’t afford to look like a dumb ass. We have to find those prisoners and lock them up before word gets out.”

  “I’ll check Buster’s house on my way home. He only lives a couple miles from my ranch.”

  “Okay. Go do that, Jack, and let me know. If we get one back it will be better than none.”

  Tate Residence.

  JACK was tired. He’d been on the road all day chasing down shady doctors who all lied to him, then the Ivan fiasco and another wasted trip north to Swain’s trailer.

  Sheriff Tucker was stressed and rightly so. A lot of shit had gone down in a short time on his turf, and the sheriff was let down terrible awful by the verdict. Harper Gabriel shot a deputy sheriff and shot Clay—an innocent bystander—and she was walking free.

  Jack parked a ways back from the goat pen hoping the stink wouldn’t blow over onto his truck and he strode up onto the porch. He knocked on the door and Mrs. Tate answered.

  “Jacky, I’m so glad to
see you. Did you come to see Buster? Old Tucker finally let my boy out of jail, and I’m so happy.”

  “Can I see Buster for a minute, Mrs. Tate?”

  “Sure. He’ll be thrilled you dropped over.”

  Don’t think he will.

  Buster stared at Jack through the screen door for a minute then stepped out onto the porch. “I ain’t going back to jail, Jacky. Ain’t happening. I’m on bail. Ain’t my fault I got no money.”

  “That’s not how it works, Buster.”

  “If you were any kind of a neighbor, you’d fork over my bail money. Ain’t much.”

  “If you were any kind of a neighbor, Buster, you wouldn’t steal my bull and cause me and my brothers all kinds of grief.” Jack snapped a cuff on Buster’s left wrist. “Turn around.”

  “I ain’t turning around. I said I ain’t going.” Buster spun around and took a hefty swing at Jack. Buster was bigger, stronger, but a lot slower. Jack smacked him in the face, then planted a hard fist in Buster’s gut. Buster bent forward and Jack knocked him onto the floor of the porch. Buster grunted and tried to roll. Jack dropped down on top of Buster, stuck a knee in his back and cuffed him.

  Buster laid on the floor of the porch cursing Jack and anybody else he could think of.

  Jack hauled the big lunk to his feet and gave him a shove. “Get in the truck.”

  “Don’t take him, Jack. Please don’t take my boy.” Mrs. Tate sobbed on the other side of the screen.

  “I have to Mrs. Tate. I’m sorry to upset you, but Buster lied to you. He ain’t on bail and he can’t be out of jail until he stands trial.”

  “He didn’t do nothing,” cried Mrs. Tate.

  Jack pushed Buster into the back of the truck and hooked him up to the newly installed ring. Tired and pissed off, Jack drove silently all the way back to Preston.

  Sheriff’s Office. Preston.

  JACK parked out back and hauled Buster’s ass in the back door. He hollered as he came in, “Got one, Sheriff. Come lock up this fucker. I’m off duty and I’m going for a beer.”

  Sheriff Tucker hurried out of his office and grinned when he saw Buster. “Good work, Jacky. One down. You go on home. Tomorrow we’ll get those nasty girls back.”