Return to Blanco (Red Book 4)

by Darrell Maloney

  This was a woman with a sense of humor. Jacob appreciated that. More humor was sorely needed in the new world.

  He was liking this woman more and more as each moment passed.

  He stepped in and said, “I’ll tell you what, ma’am. You just tell me what you want to take and let me assemble it all in one place. Then we’ll decide how to get it there.”

  Red was impressed. Jacob was taking the initiative and offering to run the show.

  “Well, okay then,” Beth said. “Let me feed and water the stock and we’ll go back in the house. I’ll show you what I’ve already packed and what I’d like to take along.”

  “Do you need any furniture, Debbie? I’ve got a house full of antiques that’ll just go to waste if you don’t want any of them. Of course, you’ll already be taking the oldest antique with you.”

  “Oh, stop it,” Jacob said. “You’re not that old.”

  She stopped short, then deadpanned, “I was referring to the wagon, young man.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  Jacob felt foolish, but only for a few seconds. Then Beth burst out laughing and hugged him.

  “I was kidding. I was talking about me. And I got you.”

  They were going to get along just fine.

  In the house, Beth showed Jacob to the den, where she already had three suitcases packed.

  “These are my clothes, and what I call my dainties,” she said to Red. “I have a trunk upstairs with family photographs and mementos and such. I’d like to take it if we can. But I’ll be gone soon and then you’ll be stuck with them. You won’t want to destroy them out of respect for an old dead woman, but if you don’t, they’ll be in your way forever. Perhaps it would be easier to just leave them here.”

  “Nonsense,” Jacob said. “They say only the good die young. If that’s the case, ma’am, then you’ll surely live forever.”

  Beth looked up at him and smiled.

  So did he, and he said, “Got you back.”

  Red just stood back and watched the show, and enjoyed seeing the two bond.

  Then she added her two cents.

  “I’ll tell you what, Beth. Why don’t we bring your mementos? Having them with you will make your transition easier. It’ll make your new home seem more like home for you. And all your new friends will want to see your children and grandchildren. Not to mention Silas.”

  Jacob continued, “And in the extremely unlikelihood you die before Red and I, we’ll bury them with you so you can have them for all eternity. How’s that?”

  Beth said, “You and I, sir, are going to get along just fine.”

  “Just don’t get too frisky with him,” Red said. “I told my friend Lilly she could have first dibs on him. She’s been needing a boyfriend for a long time.”

  Jacob flushed.

  Beth smiled and said, “Nonsense. Men these days place too much emphasis on youth. If he ever dallied with a seasoned woman he’d realize how much more experienced and less foolish we are.”

  She turned to Jacob and said, “Notice I said seasoned, young man. Not old.”

  He flushed again before stammering, “Um… maybe I’d better get upstairs and get the trunk.”

  As he rushed up the stairs to avoid more embarrassment she called behind him, “Second room on the right, behind the door.”

  Beth turned to Red and said, “I didn’t embarrass him too badly, did I?”

  “No, not at all. He’s still trying to figure out what to make of you. You two will be best friends by nightfall, you’ll see. He loves to banter back and forth, and sometimes gets frustrated because I won’t banter with him. In you, dear heart, he’s finally met his match.”

  -27-

  Gomez walked into the bank’s office a couple of hours before sundown.

  Savage was fit to be tied, and didn’t mind showing it.

  “I asked you guys not to come until dark. What if your target rides in while you’re away from your post?”

  “Relax. Duncan’s got it under control. Besides, I’ve got a proposition for you that’ll put you in a better mood.”

  The three of them… Savage, Gomez and Duncan, had come to terms on their contract killing of Red Poston.

  They were to get one fee for the hit, and had already received the fifty percent down payment.

  They’d get the rest after the deed was done.

  It was the way contract murders had been conducted in the United States for many generations.

  Might as well keep the tradition alive, they figured. Even though the world had gone to hell in a hand basket, there was no need to buck tradition.

  The hit men also negotiated a separate fee for cooling their heels and waiting for Red to come along. That was a bit out of the ordinary, but Savage didn’t complain too much about it.

  Hit men were hard to find, even these days. And their taking up an ambush position north of town ensured Red would never step foot in Blanco.

  And Savage was willing to pay a little bit more for such an arrangement.

  The sitting fee was payable every third evening, and was working without any hitches.

  Until tonight.

  Savage was borderline OCD. He liked things lined up neatly. He hated modifications or changes to his plans. Any modifications, regardless how slight.

  On the other hand, he was a businessman by heart and by trade. He was also a brutal thug, yes. But he liked to think that came second.

  When Gomez uttered the word “proposition,” Savage’s ears perked up.

  “What kind of proposition?”

  “I’m on a treasure hunt. For gold and silver and probably some precious stones as well.”

  Savage was intrigued.

  “Okay. How can I help, and how much is my cut?”

  “Your cut will be fifty percent.”

  “You’re cutting Duncan out?”

  “Duncan’s an idiot. And this treasure hunt involves a puzzle. Duncan shouldn’t prosper without contributing. And in this case he’s far too ignorant.”

  “What kind of puzzle? And for that matter, what kind of treasure? Gold bullion or jewelry?”

  “That I don’t know. Probably both. And I don’t know how much either, but I’m guessing a significant amount. Maybe millions or tens of millions.”

  “I’m listening. Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  “We came across two highway nomads. They were rifling through the abandoned trucks, but they weren’t taking food or water or guns or ammo. They were taking a few drugs, but not much. Mostly they were taking this.”

  Gomez knew he’d make more of an impression by showing Savage the booty instead of telling him about it.

  He lifted his backpack, unzipped the top, and dumped its entire contents on Savage’s desk in front of him.

  The fat man’s eyes widened.

  He let out a low whistle, then started rummaging through the pile.

  “This is a five ounce gold ingot. They don’t carry these on Walmart trucks. Where’d they get it?”

  “Some of the overnight delivery services delivered bullion on a signature-service basis. My guess is that most of the nomads bypassed the big brown trucks because they typically didn’t carry food or water. Apparently these two did search them.”

  “So how much more like this do they have?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Well, make them talk. Torture them if you have to.”

  “They’re not talking. They’ll never talk again.”

  “Oh.”

  Then Savage added, “That’s pretty short sighted of you. Killing them before they told you what you needed.”

  “We didn’t know we needed it until after they were dead.”

  “Oh. What kind of puzzle were you talking about?”

  Gomez pulled the tiny spiral notepad from his pocket and opened it up to one of the pages. He handed it to Savage.

  20A

  141

  90

  46

  17

  Sa
vage scratched his head in bewilderment.

  Gomez asked, “Does it make any sense to you?”

  “No. Not at all. It’s some kind of code, apparently. But for what?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you’d able to help with. I was hoping some of those numbers might mean something to somebody who lived here, a local. I’m not from here so none of it looks familiar to me.”

  Savage handed the notepad back and asked, “Is this all of it?”

  “No, there are several more pages of the same kind of gibberish.”

  He made no effort to show the banker any more of the pages, and Savage didn’t ask.

  Gomez didn’t want Savage to see the whole thing, because he didn’t trust him. If Savage had seen everything, and he really did know what the numbers meant, he’d solve the mystery himself without the help of Gomez. He’d retrieve the treasure that was still out there, if indeed the code was pointing to a treasure.

  And Gomez would be left in the cold, like Duncan.

  “Let me think on it. If I come up with something I’ll let you know the next time you come in.”

  “Fair enough. Do you have any idea when our target is due back? I’m getting tired of cooling my heels waiting for her.”

  “I expect it to be soon. That’s as good a guess as I can make. But I’m making it worth your while. And what else could you possibly have to do that’s more important?”

  The truth was, there really was nothing better for Gomez to do.

  Except for searching for the treasure he believed the two dead nomads had hidden.

  And until he solved the mystery of the numbers, that project was on indefinite hold.

  The two talked about a dozen other things, from speculation about when the world would find its feet again to what the world would do when it finally ran out of liquor.

  As they did so, they swilled half a fifth of Maker’s Mark that Savage had confiscated from the town’s only liquor store.

  When he was a younger man Savage used to get dates drunk so he could take advantage of them.

  In this case, he was trying to get Gomez drunk so he could get another look at the notepad.

  But Gomez suspected what he was up to and was having none of it.

  About midnight Gomez arose and said, “You owe me some money, I believe.”

  From his desk drawer Savage took two silver coins. A Liberty dollar and a Washington quarter from 1952. Both were almost pure silver, and represented the waiting fees for Gomez and Duncan for the three previous days.

  Gomez took the coins and left.

  John Savage was a man of few talents.

  But then again, he didn’t need many. He ruled by fear and intimidation.

  Two of the talents he did have, though, were a photographic memory and an ability to solve puzzles.

  After Gomez was gone, he pulled a sheet of paper from his top desk drawer and wrote upon it, from memory:

  20A

  141

  90

  46

  17

  He’d solve the puzzle. It might take him awhile, given that he only had a piece of it. But he’d solve it, he was sure.

  -28-

  Beth had a house full of extraordinary things, assembled over a lifetime.

  But the things she valued were limited to a trunk full of memories and three bags of clothes.

  Once they assembled the things in her den the three of them stood back and took a look at them.

  Jacob spoke first.

  “We can saddle up the second mare and I can tie the trunk to the saddle. It’s no heavier than a rider, so we can put two of the bags behind the saddle and the third bag on the other mare with Beth.”

  Beth started to say something, but hesitated.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing really. I was just hoping we’d take the wagon. You see, I can ride, but only very slowly and only on flat ground. I have problems with my balance, I’m afraid.”

  “No worries,” Jacob assured her. “We’ll just take the wagon, and trail my horse behind it. The wagon seat holds two people, and I’d be honored to sit up there and drive it for you.”

  “There you go,” Red added. “Problem solved.”

  “Oh, you two are so nice to me. And I’m such a big burden. Perhaps I should just stay here.”

  Red looked at Jacob, and they said almost in unison, “Nonsense.”

  Red added, “You’re no burden at all. Now let’s get everything to the barn and get it loaded. Jacob, after everything’s in the wagon, can you bring a single mattress down from the guest room? And clean sheets, blankets and pillows too.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “We’ll get the wagon loaded, then nap this afternoon. Just before dark, we’ll go hook up the team and get them ready, and we’ll hit the trail after sundown.”

  Beth said, “We’re traveling at night? Oh, my…”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s safer that way.”

  “But you said we’re going to stay away from the highway. And travel across country. Won’t that be difficult, navigating a wagon at night?”

  “No, ma’am. A little, but nothing we can’t handle. We’ve already ridden the route twice. It’s flat enough for a wagon, and dry enough, and we have no gullies or rivers to cross. We’ll be going slow, and we have goggles that help us to see in the dark. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’m afraid I won’t be much help loading the wagon. It was all I could do to drag my suitcases from my bedroom down the staircase. How about if I make the two of you a late breakfast while you’re doing the loading?”

  Jacob spoke for both of them when he said, “Breakfast would be great. I wish you had some eggs…”

  “I do, if you don’t mind scrambled or pickled.”

  “How do you have scrambled eggs? I thought you ate all the chickens?”

  “No. I ate some of them. But most I cooked and canned. And while they were still producing eggs I scrambled a lot of eggs and canned them too. And some of the eggs I boiled and then pickled.”

  “I didn’t know you could can scrambled eggs.”

  “Oh, you can can just about anything if you know how to do it. And the best thing about canned scrambled eggs is they taste as fresh as the day you scrambled them. I’ll whip some up, along with some pancakes.”

  Jacob’s mouth started to water.

  “Well, then. I guess we’d better get started so you can get started.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” Beth said. “Since we’re taking the wagon, check the pantry.”

  “Why? What’s in the pantry?”

  “A whole bunch of jerky. Chicken jerky from the last few chickens. Beef jerky from a steer I slaughtered a couple of months ago. Pork jerky from one of my old hogs.”

  “You slaughtered a steer a couple of months ago? All by yourself?”

  “Son, I may be old but I’m not dead.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry I’m not dead?”

  “No. I’m sorry… I don’t know. I’m just sorry I didn’t think you could slaughter a steer.”

  “Killin’ the steer isn’t what takes work. What takes work is cutting it into pieces and lugging them into my kitchen one at a time.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  There was nothing else to say, so he left the house, carrying the first two suitcases.

  He had to remove the boards hammered across the back door to get the bags out. They wouldn’t fit through the tiny crawl space between the boards that the three had crawled through.

  But the missing boards wouldn’t be a problem. They weren’t worried about prowlers breaking in during daylight hours.

  And they’d be gone when darkness fell.

  While he carried the bags to the barn, the two women had a couple of minutes to talk alone.

  “Are you sure I’m not a burden to you, Debbie?”

  “No, ma’am. You’re not, I promise.”

  “Thank you again for offering to take me to a new home. As much as I
love this place, and as many good memories as I have here, it’s time for me to leave. For it holds a lot of bad memories as well.”

  “I know how you feel. I think you’ll like Blanco. I really do.”

  Thank you also, for introducing me to Jacob. He’s a fine young man. Can I tell you something in confidence?”

  “Of course.”

  “I like Jacob. More than I should expect, having just met him. But the moment I first laid eyes on him, I saw…”

  “Saw what, Beth?”

  “I saw my own grandson in him. He’s the spitting image of Michael. And he has the same personality as well.”

  Red suspected she knew the answer, but asked anyway.

  “Is Michael… I mean, did he survive?”

  “I don’t know. I hope so. He moved with his family to upper Michigan a few months before the blackout. Took a job with some big computer company up there. I hope they’re all okay, but I suppose I’ll never know.”

  Jacob walked back into the house, and Red changed the subject.

  “Is there anything I can do to help you in the kitchen?”

  “No, dear, You’d best help your partner. I’ll have breakfast ready in a jiffy.”

  -29-

  Red and Jacob were placing the mattress he’d brought from an upstairs bedroom over the cargo they’d placed in the bed of the wagon when Jacob said, “Red, can I tell you a secret?”

  “Sure.”

  “It’s uncanny.”

  “Wow! I think that’s the biggest word you’ve ever used.”

  “Oh, shut up. It’s uncanny, the resemblance Beth has to my grandma Swain, on my mother’s side.”

  Red stifled a smile.

  “Really? Do tell.”

  “It’s amazing. They look exactly alike. And it’s not just their resemblance. They act exactly alike. They have the same mannerisms. They have the same sense of humor. Everything about them is the same.”

  “Uh, huh…”

  “I’m serious, Red. If my grandmother hadn’t died five or six years ago, I’d say we found her, living under an assumed identity or something.”

  “So you like her?”

  “Oh, yes. Hanging around with her is gonna be a lot of fun. It’ll be just like having my grandmother all over again.