“You look just like your mother when she was your age,” Rainhorse said. “Your beauty takes my breath away.”
She smiled, stealing another look at her mother.
“I wanted to thank you,” she said, meekly. “Mother said you were responsible for my release.”
“Are you hurt?” Rainhorse asked.
“No,” she said. “Scared out of my mind, yes, but no, not hurt.”
“Good. It’s over now,” he said. “You never have to worry about those men again.”
“Thanks to you,” I’m told. “Would it be ok if I . . . gave you a hug?”
He smiled warmly and extended his arms, “I would like that.”
Rainhorse and Lona hugged. She clenched him tightly. “Thank you,” she said. She smiled, “Thank you so much.”
Neha began to tear up again watching the two of them embrace. After a moment, he pulled away, “Please, take care of your mother for me,” he said.
“I will,” Lona replied. “My mother told me she has many stories to tell me about you.”
Rainhorse smiled softly, “That can be taken one of two ways.”
“No,” Lona said. “If you could have seen her face, you’d realize . . .”
“Realize what?”
“That she loves you,” Lona said. “She loves you—very much. She will wait for you to come back.”
“I need you to be strong for her, because I won’t be back, not for a very long time—perhaps forever.”
“What did you do?”
“Things from my past that I am not proud of,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
“Me too.”
She turned to walk away but paused to look back, “Goodbye,” she said.
Neha came to him next, sliding into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. She tiptoed to give him a long warm kiss. He could taste the salty tears that had made their way to his lips.
“I’ll wait for you, as long as it takes,” she said, clinging to him. “No matter what.”
Rainhorse’s face looked positively dour, “I’m so sorry that I must leave you once again.”
“It’s not your fault,” she replied. “It’s not fair. After all these years, I have found you once again. To lose you now . . .”
“I have committed many sins. I must make amends,” he admitted. “If I did not do this, we could never be together. I would continue to look over my shoulder every day. You have a daughter. My life would be no good for you.”
“But you’ve done so much good,” Neha said. “You saved many lives today, and single-handedly eliminated the drug and sex trade on the res. The good you have done cannot be measured. That must count for something.”
Rainhorse said nothing, just smiled at Neha and stroked her hair.
“Before I go, I must tell you something,” he said, “something I have wanted to say for many, many years.
“Please,” she encouraged.
“I love you, Neha Littlebird. I love you with all my heart, and I always have. I have never stopped loving you. No matter what happens to me from this day forward, I will be able to remember these last few days with you. They will give me comfort.”
Neha broke down in tears, “I love you, too, Rainy. I’ll never stop.”
Andrews cleared his throat, standing several feet behind Rainhorse. He tapped his watch. The Cheyenne nodded.
He kissed Neha once again before she returned to Lona. “Stay strong, Neha,” he called after her. She turned one last time, managing a soft smile and nodded at him.
Lindsay ran toward Rainhorse and embraced him tightly. Tears were streaming down her face. “They told us they were arresting you—that you turned yourself in voluntarily. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I could not do this alone,” he replied. “It had to be done. It was the only way. It was my decision, and mine alone.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell us,” Lindsay argued.
“Would you have allowed me to do it?” he asked.
“Hell no,” she barked in response.
“There you have it,” he said. “I did not have the time or energy for that conversation.”
“We could have figured something else out,” she said.
He kissed her forehead and wiped the tears from her face, “It no longer matters. I did what I came to do and I got to see you again. I am tired of running and hiding.”
“No,” Lindsay screamed. “I won’t let you go.”
“You don’t have a choice, Lindsay. What about your mother?”
“She still doesn’t know anything yet, but she will soon,” Lindsay said through the tears. “The FBI is calling her today.”
“I am sorry.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “There will be a lot of screaming, crying and such. I’ll get chewed out real good, but I’ve been chewed out before. I can handle it.”
He chuckled softly, “I know you can. Lindsay, I have a favor to ask.”
“Anything,” she said.
“With HRT, Apollo, and all their men in custody, there are a lot of drug users who will be cut off from their drug supply,” he said. “That means lots of people will be forced to ween off . . .”
“I’ve already spoken to Ellie,” she said. “I am staying on for a few days until we can figure something out. Hell, I have a pretty large trust fund. Ellie is not hurting for money. You can count on Ellie and I, Jackson. We’ll figure something out to help the people here.”
Rainhorse smiled, “I knew you would be ahead of me on that. What about college, though?”
“I’ll take a year off if I have to,” she said. “I’m not worried. Finishing what we started here is far more important.”
“I am so proud of you,” he said. “Your mother will be most displeased, though.”
“She will have no choice in the matter,” she said. “I can handle my mother. Hell, I might even get her involved. Once she gets over being pissed, she’ll want to know everything. She really has a heart of gold, and her pockets are lined with it, too.”
“Good, then. I will leave in your capable hands.”
“You got Agent Andrews’ number from the card I gave you, didn’t you?” she asked.
“Yes, I knew he had a . . . special interest in me,” he replied.
“I’ll get you a lawyer,” Lindsay said. “I’ll find the best one in the country, I promise.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I need you to do something for me—something very important.”
“What?”
“I need you to make . . . a promise to me,” he said.
She eyed him suspiciously, “What kind of promise?”
He paused, looking at her with eyes that made Lindsay feel he was looking straight into her heart.
“I want you to start living your life again,” he said. “I can be happy wherever I end up as long as I know you are living a full life. I want you to follow your dreams. I want you to find the right man to marry, to love, to have a home and raise a family. I can face anything if I know you are safe and happy.”
“No. I’ll never rest until you are free,” she said. “After all you’ve done, the last place you deserve to be is in jail. I’ll fight . . . as long as it takes.”
“No, my dearest Lindsay, you are not hearing me,” Rainhorse insisted. “I am done fighting. Lindsay, do you not see? You have been my inspiration—my muse. Because of you, I found a way to give my life meaning and purpose. What we have done today has allowed me to believe in myself again. I could not have accomplished this without you. What remains is for me to pay for my past sins. Then, and only then, will I never have to look over my shoulder again. I will have my own name back—no false identity, no looking behind me. I will never have to pretend to be someone else when this is done. It will be worth whatever time it takes. I want to do that, Lindsay, but I need your help.”
“My help? I don’t really understand what you’re asking of me,” she said.
Rainhorse
held her face in his hands. He kissed her very gently, “It is time for you . . . to move on.”
“No!” she screamed.
“Lindsay, please. It is time. You have to let me go.”
Lindsay took in a breath and held it. She gasped and placed her hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened.
She gasped, shaking her head, “Never.”
“You have to, Lindsay,” he replied. “Let me go . . . please.”
Lindsay had already been crying but hearing Rainhorse’s words brought all the emotions she had been feeling to the surface. Everything she had been feeling inside suddenly exploded in cries and tears. She sobbed out loud, crying longer and harder than at any time of her life. She buried her face into his chest and squeezed him as hard as she could.
Andrews tapped him on the shoulder, “Rainhorse, I’m sorry. It’s time to go.”
He nodded and released Lindsay from his embrace. She fought him, trying to grab onto him again, but he took her hands gently into his and forced them to her side. Neha had approached and softly took Lindsay by the shoulder, turning the young woman toward her and embracing her. Neha managed a soft smile and nodded at Rainhorse.
He turned to Andrews and held his wrists up, “Let’s go.”
Andrews cuffed the big Cheyenne and led him away. The FBI wagons had arrived. Andrews led him by one of them. Apollo, Takoda and Hank Rattling Thunder were all inside, in wrist and leg irons.
“Hey Cheyenne,” HRT yelled out.
Rainhorse paused and looked toward the sound of the voice.
“You lied to me,” he continued.
“I did not. I said I would deliver your daughter to you, unharmed,” Rainhorse said. “I did that. I also said I would turn myself over to you. I did that as well. I never said anything about not sending in the FBI.”
“That’s bullshit, Cheyenne,” HRT barked.
“What goes around comes around, Chief,” Apollo threatened.
“It would appear you are correct,” Rainhorse replied, nodding at his leg irons.
“I’ll be behind bars, but so will you,” Apollo bellowed.
Rainhorse nodded, stealing a glance at Andrews before turning back to Apollo, “Worth it!” he said.
Apollo scowled.
“If you think I can’t get to you in jail, you’re wrong. You’ll be dead within three months.”
“I do not see how that is possible,” the Cheyenne replied.
The sneer that had been pasted on Apollo’s face faded, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What I mean is, you will have little time to think about me,” Rainhorse said. “The way I see it, you and Rattling Thunder will be spending most of your time avoiding assassination attempts from your . . . valued customers.”
Andrews tried unsuccessfully to squelch a chuckle.
“What the hell is he talking about?” Apollo demanded to know, looking at Rattling Thunder.
“I don’t know, I swear,” HRT responded.
“Please, allow me to explain,” Rainhorse continued. “I just turned over Rose’s journal to Agent Andrews.”
“What . . . journal?” Apollo demanded to know.
“Oh, shit!” HRT gasped loudly, looking as though he was going to be physically ill. He buried his face into his hands.
“What’s he talking about?” Apollo yelled.
HRT did not look up.
“Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Apollo demanded.
“I will leave it to Rattling Thunder to explain,” Rainhorse said. “Suffice it to say, very soon there will many high-powered criminal types who will be most unhappy with you. I would venture to say some of them have resources that may be able to reach you in prison. Karma is a bitch. Good day, gentlemen.”
Andrews looked at Rainhorse. He was staring at Apollo, expressionless. After a few seconds, the retired assassin formed a tiny wry smile on his face.
Andrews led Rainhorse away, “Those two will not have to wait very long for one of their former customers to get to them in prison. That is, if they don’t kill each other first.”
“Such a pity,” Rainhorse replied in a neutral tone.
Andrews chuckled, “You don’t seem too distraught over that prospect.”
Rainhorse turned to Andrews and shrugged, his face remained impassive, “Of course I am,” he said. “This is how I look when I am distraught.”
. . . our story is not quite over.
EPILOGUE
______________________
Special Agent in Charge Andrews sat in an oversized conference room of the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington D.C., home of the FBI headquarters. He looked at his watch. It was well past two o’clock.
He had been summoned to the offices three days earlier under a shroud of mystery. Andrews had been at 935 Pennsylvania Avenue on a few occasions but not in over five years. He went to his own boss at the FBI regional office in Bozeman but the man claimed to know nothing. He told Andrews not to be worried. He had done nothing wrong.
Still, the uncertainty was eating at him, and now they were making him wait. He didn’t even know who he was meeting. He arrived twenty minutes early but had been cooling his heels for over a half hour. Ten more minutes passed before three people walked in.
Andrews stood, eyes wide and mouth agape. Standing before him were FBI Director Randall Rice, Deputy Director Daniel Bowman and Chief of Staff Angela Burk. He had met them all once or twice in the early stages of his career, long before any of them held their current positions. He had never held more than a cursory conversation with any of them in the past.
“Andrews,” Rice greeted, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m sure you know Bowman and Burk.”
“Yes, of course,” Andrews said after clearing his throat. He shook hands with all three of them.
“Please sit,” Rice said. “I don’t have long. We’ll get right to the point. Did anyone tell you why you were asked to be here today?”
“No sir,” Andrews said.
“Good. Angela Burk will explain.”
“You were involved with Lindsay Vanderbilt’s investigation into her abduction five years ago, correct?” Burk asked.
“Yes, that’s right,” he replied.
“And you continued to provide oversight into the manhunt for the mastermind of that kidnapping,” she continued, “Barnabas Quince.”
“Yes, initially,” Andrews said, “but I was removed from that assignment when Quince fled the lower forty-eight.”
“So, that assignment turned out to be a failure,” she said.
He paused, wondering if somehow it was discovered he missed something big and was now being canned for it.
“We never found him,” Andrews admitted. “The last I heard he was thought to be in Alaska, laying low.”
“Our intelligence indicated he was indeed, in Alaska, hiding deep underground,” Deputy Director Bowman said, “but he resurfaced four months ago.”
“I didn’t know that,” Andrews said.
“It seems he has been very quietly rebuilding his organization,” Rice continued. “Our intel suggests he is amassing a criminal organization of epic proportions, with heavy emphasis on weapons acquisition and resell. He is amassing quite an arsenal, an arsenal we believe he intends to sell to ISIS. We need to stop him . . . and soon, before it’s too late.”
“Based on your time on the case, do you have any idea where he might try to form a base of operations?” Bowman wanted to know.
“No,” Andrews said.
“Do you know why we’re asking?” Rice asked.
“You want me to take point on finding him,” Andrews noted, his heartrate rising.
“Yes, but we want to offer you special help,” Burk said. “I’ll warn you—it’s out of the box but we think it comes with tremendous benefits.”
“I’d like to put together my own team, if you wouldn’t mind,” Andrews said.
“You’ll get that chance,” Rice affirmed, “but let’s face it, Barn
abas Quince has been eluding all of us for years.”
“That’s true,” Andrews said, “but . . .”
“You couldn’t get the job done on your own, either,” Bowman said, somewhat accusingly.
“Don’t get the wrong idea, Andrews,” Director Rice interjected. “We think you’re the man for the job and we are willing to commit the resources to get the job done. We have been trying to catch this guy for over twenty years now and we’ve never gotten close. We can’t fail this time. We simply can’t. We are even willing to do what it takes, even if that means getting . . . creative.”
Andrews sighed, “You said your idea was out of the box. Do you have someone in mind?”
“We do,” Burk said. “We now have access to a man with a very special skill set—and he has special knowledge of Barnabas’ organization.”
“Are you going to tell me who it is?” Andrews asked.
Burk looked at Rice and Bowman. Rice nodded.
Burk looked back at Andrews, leaning forward. She pushed a thick manila file across the desk to Andrews, “Tell me about a man they call . . . Rainhorse.”
(Coming June 26, 2018 – the next Rainhorse adventure/romance continues)
Author’s note:
The character of Rainhorse was first introduced in the book, Guardian Ranger, available for $1.99 or free for Kindle Unlimited subscribers.
The adventures of Rainhorse are a continual story, but each book is written so that it can be read as a standalone.
For those who have not read it, Guardian Ranger can be found here: http://amzn.to/2FnCarT
Other Jesse Jacobson Books:
Brotherhood Protectors
Steele Ranger
Guardian Ranger
Rainhorse
Special Forces: Operation Alpha
Protecting Honor
Fighting for Honor
Defending Honor
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance persons living or dead is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2018 by Jesse Jacobson
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