The Coyote's Cry

by Jackie Merritt

  Jenna’s first meeting with the very old man had provided her very little information about the true nature of his relationship with his family. That day, in fact, she had thought Mr. WhiteBear to be a bit light in the upper story, calling her a golden fox the way he had, and then slipping into a state of mourning over the impending death of his daughter, which he had apparently been made aware of by a coyote. What’s more, his great-grandsons—two of them anyway, Jared and Bram—had tried to convince her that the old man’s ways were perfectly normal.

  Well, maybe they were. What was normal for one person wasn’t necessarily normal for another. At any rate, Jenna felt that she was seeing George WhiteBear for the first time today. He wore boots that had been shined, clean jeans and shirt, and his long gray hair had been tied back with a buckskin string. He looked Comanche and he looked dignified and proud, and it was obvious to Jenna that his family respected and loved him.

  “Jenna, sit over here, next to me,” Willow called.

  “Thanks, Willow, but I’m going in. You all enjoy yourselves.”

  Objections came from every direction.

  “You have to eat!”

  “My goodness, we’ll all take turns sitting with Gran.”

  “Come on, Jenna, sit down and eat with us.”

  Jenna smiled. “You’re all very kind, but I’m going to go inside. Please don’t worry about me.” She hurried to the front door and went in.

  Perplexed as to how he should handle this without giving anything away to his quick-to-catch-on family, Bram ran his hand over his hair.

  “Maybe I should fix a plate and bring it in to her,” he said to the group in general. “What do you think?”

  Aunt Alice spoke up. “Why, that’s a very sweet suggestion, Bram, dear. Yes, I think it would be very thoughtful of you to do that. Here, let me help you.” She began filling a large plate. “Get a cup of that fruit punch for her.”

  Bram heard a snicker and turned around to glare at his sister. “Don’t get any foolish ideas. In fact, if you want to deliver that plate, instead of my doing it, be my guest.”

  Willow’s eyes fairly danced with excitement. “Big brother, I wouldn’t deliver that plate for you if you paid me.”

  “Well, I’m sure as hell not going to pay you.”

  “I know.” Willow smiled sweetly.

  Bram grabbed the plate of food and the cup of fruit punch and headed for the house. It was a balancing act to open the screen door, but he managed without anyone else’s assistance and then strode into the house.

  Jenna was in the bedroom with Gloria, and quickly went out to meet him when she heard him tromping around. The food in his hands surprised her. Pleased her, too, for he had actually done something nice for her in front of his family.

  “Bram, you didn’t have to do this.”

  “You’re welcome.” Without so much as a hint of a smile on his granitelike features, Bram set the plate and cup on a table and all but ran for the door.

  “And you’re never going to be anything but rude, even while doing something nice for a person, are you?” She hadn’t yelled, but she’d spoken loudly enough that he could have heard her.

  This time she hoped he had, the jerk!

  Chapter Fourteen

  A week later Bram received a letter from Rand Colton.

  Sheriff,

  Since you haven’t used the number I left for you, I can only assume that you do not wish to join my investigation of possible ties between your family and mine. It is your right, of course, as it is mine to proceed with all manner of research on my own. I feel it’s only fair to inform you that I will be visiting Black Arrow and Comanche County again, possibly quite often.

  Perhaps it’s not my place to advise you on any subject, but I cannot ignore something you said the day we met. You said you were told of two men asking questions about your family. Bram, this is alarming to me and perhaps should also alarm you. Or at least alert you to the fact that I know nothing about this other man except that he could have been hired by a rather unscrupulous member of my family, in which case he is not to be trusted.

  At the bottom of this letter is a list of addresses and telephone numbers where I can be reached, should you change your mind and wish to speak to me.

  Rand Colton

  Bram read the letter twice, then folded it, returned it to its envelope and put it in the bottom-right drawer of his desk. Maybe he would use one of those phone numbers one of these days, but researching the past simply wasn’t as urgent as everything else going on right now. As far as that warning about the second man snooping into Colton family business went, Bram hadn’t heard him mentioned by anyone for some time. Maybe he’d given up, or discovered the Coltons had nothing to hide, and left town. Bram hoped so. Actually, any time he had to spend on personal matters would be used to figure out the meaning behind Gran’s plea for him to “find the truth.” Right now, though, his calendar was full.

  For instance, Joker had been spotted two different times during a dark night, but he had managed to elude the deputies each time. Regardless, those incidents proved the drug-dealing snake was still in Black Arrow, which kept Bram hopeful of eventually nailing his butt to a prison wall.

  He was thinking about that very thing when his phone rang. “Bram, Aubrey Kennecott’s on line two for you.”

  “Thanks.” Bram punched the right button. “Aubrey?”

  “Let me get straight to the point. You either charge Tobler today or you let him go. Understand?”

  “If I let him go and he leaves town, you won’t have a witness when we arrest Joker.”

  “Then charge him!”

  “So he can get out on bail?”

  “I don’t write the laws, Bram. Just do what you have to. Goodbye.”

  Seething, Bram put down the phone. He didn’t have Joker, and Tobler was probably going to walk, too. What in hell else could go wrong?

  In a lousy mood, Bram got up and walked out of the building to his SUV. Maybe a drive would clear his head.

  Jenna answered the phone at the Colton Ranch and heard a woman’s voice asking, “Is Bram there?”

  “No, he isn’t. I could take a message, if you’d like.”

  “I don’t have time for messages. He’s not at the sheriff’s station, either. Would you have any idea where I might find him?”

  “None at all. Who is this?”

  “Annie McCrary. I’m George’s neighbor. George WhiteBear, Bram’s great-grandfather. Who are you?”

  “Jenna Elliot, Gloria Colton’s nurse. Is this an emergency, Annie? Should you be calling 9-1-1? Is George ill or injured?”

  “No, he’s not sick and he isn’t bleeding anywhere I can see. That’s not the problem. I just came from his place—one of my usual weekly drop-in visits—and he’s getting ready to drive to town.”

  “I don’t think I see the problem.”

  “He hasn’t driven in…in ten or twenty years! He doesn’t have a license and he’ll probably cause fifteen wrecks between his place and Black Arrow! Believe me, Ms. Elliot, there is a problem.”

  “Oh, my goodness! Why is he coming to town?”

  “To see Bram. He said that he has to talk to Bram, that it’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Maybe…maybe you could drive him. Would that be too much of an imposition?”

  “Not at all, except I threw my back out a few days ago and just driving the short distance between George’s place and mine nearly finished me off. If I drove all the way to Black Arrow I’d probably end up in the hospital. Oh, Lord, what’ll I do? Do you have a car? Maybe you could come out here and get him. When he makes up his mind to something, there’s no changing it.”

  “I would do it in a heartbeat, but I really can’t leave Gloria alone.”

  “No, of course you can’t. Oh, hell, I’ll do it. But where will I take him once we’re in town?”

  “I’ll try to find Bram for you. Call me again when you get to town. I wish I could do more.”

&nb
sp; “Well, I guess I’ve survived worse. Okay, you hunt down Bram and I’ll get the old guy to Black Arrow.”

  Jenna suddenly had a better idea, or so it seemed. “Annie, bring him here, if he’ll let you. You can always use the argument that Bram will be home eventually.”

  “Good plan. I’ll try it. But you keep trying to find Bram, okay?”

  “Yes, all right. Do you know how to get here?”

  “Oh, yes. See you later.”

  After saying goodbye, Jenna sat with the phone book and began dialing Colton numbers. No one had seen Bram that morning; no one had any idea of where he might be. “His job takes him all over the county, Jenna. He could be anywhere. But why are you looking for him? Is Gran worse?”

  Jenna quickly reassured whomever she was speaking with and then cut the call short so she could make the next one.

  An hour later she had talked to every Colton she’d been able to reach. She’d called the police station, but Bram hadn’t called in today. Feeling defeated and frustrated, she checked on Gloria, then sat near a living room window to watch for Annie McCrary and George WhiteBear.

  They finally arrived, and Jenna went outside and helped Annie assist George from the cab of her truck.

  “I haven’t found him,” she said in an undertone to Annie. “No one knows where he might be.”

  “Where’s Bram?” George WhiteBear asked.

  “He’ll be here,” Jenna said with a smile for the old gentleman. “Please come inside.”

  George went in, but he wasn’t happy about Bram’s absence. “I need to talk to him now. I have to warn him. My daughter’s ill, but it’s not her we should all be worried about. It’s Bram. He’s in grave danger and I have to tell him to watch out for the laughing man in black.”

  Bram’s meandering drive took him into a neighborhood that seldom required police protection. There were numerous upscale homes and gated condominium communities, some that Bram had heard had sold for up to five million dollars. In fact, Carl Elliot lived in this area, about two streets over from the one he was on. Thinking of Carl brought Jenna to Bram’s mind, which made his gut ache. Fumbling some antacids from a package, he chewed and swallowed them with a drink of water from the bottle he had with him.

  What was he going to do about Jenna? Tell her the truth of her heritage and let her handle it with her dad, or tell her nothing and just stay the hell away from her and something that was really none of his business? What a lousy damned dilemma.

  Driving past an elegantly landscaped area around one of the entrance gates leading into a very posh condominium project, Bram happened to glance at the complex. Everything was lushly beautiful—the architecture, the trees, the shrubbery.

  And just like that, within the blink of an eye, Bram spotted a tall, unusually thin man in a black jogging suit running past the entranceway, inside the high fence. Bram pulled his SUV over to the curb and looked back at the gate. That man fit to a tee the description that Tobler had given on Joker, minus the fancy jogging suit, of course. Bram’s heart pounded in his chest as instinctive questions and answers bombarded him.

  Was the reason they hadn’t made any real headway in finding Joker because they had been looking in the wrong parts of town? That theory made sense. Joker could be dealing drugs in the dark of night, dressed in old clothes to blend in with the street folk, and after finishing his dirty work he hightailed it back to his million-dollar condo, where he played proper citizen to the neighbors.

  “What incredible luck,” Bram said under his breath. He was convinced he’d just seen Joker, but he couldn’t go barging through that gate without some proof.

  This called for a stakeout. Feeling higher than a kite, Bram returned to the station to set the wheels of justice in motion.

  Jenna didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or simply collapse and hope for recovery somewhere down the road. This was insane, wasn’t it? An old man’s prediction of doom based on communication with coyotes?

  And yet some part of her believed, and something else within her wept without tears. In all of her life she had never felt this kind of ripping pain.

  In the kitchen she served tea and offered food to Annie McCrary, who looked as pale as Jenna felt. George WhiteBear had parked himself next to his daughter’s bed and there he sat.

  “Do you believe him?” Annie whispered.

  Jenna was afraid to say yes, afraid to say no. The Coltons were intelligent people and they believed George WhiteBear’s predictions.

  “I…I’m not sure. There is one thing that’s very confusing, though. He first thought it was Gloria who was going to die soon, and now it’s Bram. How could that happen?”

  “Jenna, I don’t talk to coyotes and I doubt if you do, so how on earth would either of us even dare to hazard a guess about that?”

  A chill suddenly traveled Jenna’s spine. “I…heard a coyote the other night. He sounded close enough to touch, but I never saw him. I was outside…it was dark, very dark…and I was feeding Nellie. It was a bloodcurdling sound, but the really crazy thing about it was that Nellie didn’t react at all. It was as though she couldn’t hear it.”

  “Goodness, that gave me goose bumps.” Annie rubbed her arms. “Listen, I have to run. Thanks for the tea. I’m in the phone book. Call if you ever need anything, okay?”

  “Yes, thanks, I will.”

  After Annie had gone, Jenna peered down the hall into the master bedroom. George WhiteBear hadn’t moved an inch. Jenna realized then that he was chanting or singing something in a rhythm that was unfamiliar to her ears.

  He was singing softly in the Comanche language. With tears all but drowning her, Jenna ran to the bedroom no one used, the one with the second twin bed, and threw herself upon it. She loved Bram and she even loved his family, but would she ever truly understand them?

  Bram walked into the station and immediately checked the duty roster. Locating the two names he had hoped to see on the chart, he put it down and strode over to the radio dispatcher.

  “Marilu, get Hayes and Lowell on the horn and tell them I need ’em here. As soon as they can get here.”

  “Will do. Did you check your message box?” Marilu asked before sending out a call over the radio.

  “Not yet. Why? Did something important come in?”

  “Sounded important to me.” She spoke into her headphone. “Sergeant Hayes, Sheriff Colton wants to see you and your partner on the double.”

  “We’re ten minutes away.” Tommy Hayes responded.

  “Thanks, Marilu.” Bram walked over to the message and mailbox on the wall and emptied the one with his name on it. He had four messages, one from Willow, one from Jared and two from Jenna.

  Two from Jenna! My God, something happened to Gran! Rushing back to Marilu, he asked, “Did Jenna Elliot say anything about my grandmother?”

  “No, but she did mention your great-grandfather. That was during her second call.”

  Relief that Gran was all right mingled with Bram’s sudden worry about his great-grandfather. “What, exactly, did she say about him?”

  “Something about a warning. And I think she used the word urgent. That’s about all I remember. I was pretty busy when she called that second time.”

  “But he’s not sick or injured.”

  “She didn’t say anything about that.”

  “Then he’s fine and scaring the hell out of her with another prediction,” Bram said under his breath.

  “Pardon?”

  “Nothing, Marilu.” Bram went to his office and shut the door. He didn’t have time to call Willow, Jared or Jenna, nor did he really want to, even though it would be interesting to hear how his great-grandfather managed to frighten Jenna via long distance when he didn’t have a phone.

  There was a logical answer to that little riddle, Bram believed, but he couldn’t let himself be drawn into family problems today.

  Tense enough to shatter, Jenna fidgeted all morning. She worked around George WhiteBear when Gloria needed something, and at
noon she offered the elderly man some lunch, which he refused. The moment she left the bedroom she heard that soft singsong chanting again.

  She was so glad to see Willow’s car arriving that afternoon that she nearly wept.

  “Have you talked to Bram?” Jenna asked the second Willow entered the house.

  “No, have you?”

  “No, and I called twice.”

  “He must not have received our messages,” Willow said. “He’s probably not at the station.” She started toward Gloria’s room, then stopped and looked at Jenna. “Granddad is still here?”

  Jenna nodded weakly. “Annie only stayed a short while. He wouldn’t go with her.”

  Willow said quietly, “I should have called before coming. Jenna, I’m not going to stay. I left the feed store shorthanded to drive out here to see Gran. I really don’t want to hear any more gloom and doom predictions from Granddad, so I’m going to take the coward’s way out and just leave.”

  Jenna walked Willow to the door and stepped out onto the porch with her.

  “Jenna, this all has to be really difficult for you. You weren’t raised with our traditions, and it wouldn’t surprise me if you thought we were all a bit loony.” Willow looked off across the yard. “And you know something? Maybe we are.”

  “No more so than anyone else. We all have quirks that others don’t quite get.”

  “That’s true. Listen, at some point of the day, probably early evening, Granddad will want to go home. It’s the way he is—it always happens. If no one else is here at the time, call me and I’ll make sure someone picks him up.”

  Jenna squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thank you. Willow, do you think I should try to get hold of Bram one more time?”

  “Granddad really has you worried, doesn’t he?”

  “I…can’t help worrying. Willow, I heard a coyote the other night, and Nellie was with me and didn’t hear it. That means something, doesn’t it?”

  “Oh, Jenna.” Willow threw her arms around her. “I can’t explain something like that, and I really don’t recommend that you ask Granddad for answers, because you’ll hear much more about Comanche lore and tradition and guardian spirits than you ever wanted to know.”